Eye of the Storm
by lightsandmusic
Summary: Dumbledore has decided to promote inter-house unity by rearranging living quarters. When Harry, Ron, Hermione, Malfoy, Zabini and Pansy are grouped together, arguments, hijinks, unexpected friendship, romance and most importantly, pranks will ensue.
1. School Ties

**Eye of the Storm**

**Chapter One – School Ties  
**

The Sixth years all knew something exciting was happening when they were asked to stay behind after the Back to School Feast for a special announcement. The room was twittering with musings and whispers.

As Dumbledore rose from his seat, with the usual twinkle in his eye, the chatter dulled to silence. "The Wizarding World is at unrest, and although your Professors and myself have all tried to promote inter-house unity, it is obvious that our efforts have been fruitless so far. But this summer, we realized, how should we expect inter-house unity when we separate all of you? Your classes are divided through houses, your dining table is dictated by your house, your living quarter is a result of your house! This very situation means that your friends are determined by your house. As a result, we are seeking to change that. From now on, your living quarters will change, in conjunction with a new compulsory _Life Skills_ course, which will count towards your NEWTs. Three students from two houses will be paired in groups of six to live in new dormitories. They will complete activities together as determined by the course, and we hope that this will help you foster new bonds when facing challenges together.

"Your housemates will be randomly determined by a sorting goblet. Professor McGonagall, if you will…"

Professor McGonagall brought out a large silver goblet, much larger than the one they had seen in their Fourth Year, and placed it on the Sorting Hat's stool. "We have already placed your names in the goblet. Listen carefully for your new housemates." She tapped the goblet with her wand, watching as it glowed purple before sitting down.

A loud booming voice, seemingly without a source, resonated around the room, "Group one: Brown, Lavender. Bulstrode, Millicent. Crabbe, Vincent. Longbottom, Neville. Nott, Theodore. Patil, Parvati."

Whispers broke out as this abstracted idea now became real. Nervous glances found their way across the hall.

Silence broke through once again as the goblet glowed once again. "Group two: Granger, Hermione. Malfoy, Draco. Parkinson, Pansy." Malfoy and Pansy smiled at each other, whilst Hermione hoped for two good people from her house to make up for the Slytherins. She crossed her fingers. "Potter, Harry. Weasley, Ron." Harry shot an excited grin at Ron and Hermione. "Zabini, Blaise." Blaise smiled slightly, although he appeared quite undisturbed.

Hermione's head began to run at a thousand miles an hour. She was ecstatic that she would be able to live with Harry and Ron, but Pansy, Malfoy and Zabini? With a sinking feeling she realized that she and Pansy were the only two girls, and therefore would have to share a girl's dormitory. All of Hermione's interactions with Pansy were that of Pansy insulting Hermione's looks or appearance. Malfoy would not make their time an easy one, and Zabini, well she didn't really have an opinion on Zabini. She had noticed him only a handful of times and had heard about him even less. The only gossip about him was how there _was_ no gossip, although she distinctly remembered Parvati and Lavender spending a few nights saying how absolutely and completely he fit the tall, dark, mysterious and handsome mold. Hermione looked up at him and noticed him shooting Malfoy a casual smile. So, they were friends.

More names were called out, none with the good luck or bad luck of group two. After that, Professor McGonagall gave out maps and passwords to each new dormitory. She silenced Hermione's bombardment of questions with a, "More information will be available later, Miss Granger."

Zabini led the group to the portrait, as he was the only one that knew remotely where it was. He told the group how he had spent two hours of a Sunday afternoon arguing with the portrait when everyone was at Hogsmeade, and after he had finished serving detention. They stopped after a turn on the fifth floor, in front of a portrait with a fat man laying back in a recliner. He was eating plump, purple grapes. "Ohh!" he yelled out, "Fresh young faces! Password?"

"Chocolate fudge." Muttered Zabini.

The portrait swung open to reveal a common room strikingly similar to the ones that they had. There was a fireplace, large lounges in covert corners and portraits decorating the room.

Harry was the first to speak, "Look, um… everyone, if we're living here together for the next year or whatever, I think that we all need to co-operate." His gaze passed over Pansy and landed on Malfoy, "A lot of us haven't seen eye to eye in the past, so, for the benefit and sanity of all of us… truce?"

Malfoy cast a slow deliberate gaze around at his new housemates before speaking, "Maybe." He smirked, "We'll sleep on it." And with that, he and Zabini slipped away, up towards the stairs with the room labeled "Wizards".

Pansy stood for a moment, frowning slightly, "Well, this is awkward company, so I'm off to bed too. Granger – when you get settled in, make sure you and your furball of a cat don't shed your frizzy hair everywhere." With a flick of her dark hair, she turned away and sauntered up the stairs.

Hermione looked up to the room with the label, "Witches" and groaned quietly, "I can't believe I have to share a dorm with Pansy Parkinson – she's terrible!"

Harry shrugged, "At least us three are together."

Ron chuckled, "Yeah, can you believe that Neville has to share with Millicent Bulstrode and Crabbe?"

"Mmm, and Lavender and Parvati – always giggling." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think it might be nice to be rid of them - even if it's Pansy."

"They're not that bad." commented Ron.

"Of course you don't think Lavender is that bad." Harry grinned and nudged Ron knowingly.

Hermione looked suspiciously at both of them, trying to mask the plethora of questions that ran through her mind. _What does Harry mean? Does Ron like Lavender? Have Ron and Lavender done something? Is it just a joke? _"Well, we should all probably go to bed. It's getting late."

Goodnights echoed around the room as the Gryffindors trudged up the stairs to accustom themselves to their new dormitories.

* * *

The next morning, Harry awoke from his shoulder being shaken furiously by Ron.

"What?" rasped Harry groggily.

Ron madly pointed to his throat and mouthed words.

"You're…thirsty?"

Ron shook his head, pointing more violently than before.

"Hungry?"

Ron gave a look of disbelief and continued gesticulating wildly, accidently banging into things as he did so.

Malfoy pulled open his bed curtains ostentatiously. "Oh for Merlin's sake, Weasley. I'm a light sleeper. With no voice you manage to cause a racket." His bed appeared undisturbed, and on his head, not a hair in disarray. Malfoy grabbed his wand from his drawers and aimed it at Ron, "Finite incantatem."

Ron squeaked slightly, "What the hell, Malfoy?". He paused at the sound of his own voice. "My voice's back! Wait, Malfoy, what did you do?"

"As I said, I'm a _light_ sleeper. Your behemoth snoring was keeping me up, so I fixed the problem."

Ron's ears turned pink, "I don't snore Malfoy, maybe you need to get your ears checked! And you shouldn't be casting spells on people while they're sleeping!" Ron turned to Harry, "Harry, I don't snore do I?"

The door to the bathroom opened and a gust of steam rolled out. "I could hear you arguing from in there." commented Blaise, coming out with a towel draped lazily around his hips. "Draco – you're a sensitive sleeper, earplugs next time? Weasley – your snores are as loud as Snape's hair is greasy. I can sleep through almost anything and let me tell you, it was difficult getting to sleep last night."

Malfoy's laugh whipped around the room, "Not sure earplugs are going to drown that out, Blaise." Blaise smiled back as he began to put his uniform on.

Harry's bed was gently shaking with his silent laughter. "Harry? Are you laughing?" asked Ron in an outraged voice.

"No, um, I felt a cough rising, I was trying to suppress it. Er- I have to go shower now…"

"Blaise, let's get some breakfast." interjected Malfoy. Nodding, Blaise signaled to the door and both boys strutted out.

After the door closed behind them, Blaise patted Malfoy on the back, "Trust you to start a fight the second day of school."

"What do you expect? Weasel sleeps like a stupefied troll."

"Well, you've set a new record of fighting I think."

"It's a refreshing wakeup I must say."

Blaise's expression turned serious for a moment, "Everything's been quiet lately, too quiet. I felt nervous all over summer, everyone's constantly waiting for something to happen. I'm glad we're back."

Malfoy nodded, "I agree, this summer was strange. Especially with... you know... our family situation. Father's been agitated and Mother crying."

"My mother's been ready to leave at the drop of a hat, with any whispers of His return. This time no one will be able to be neutral."

"Yeah, we'll have to be careful. But don't you think it's interesting?"

"What?" frowned Malfoy.

"That we're in the same group or whatever as Potter and his little gang."

"Maybe, but maybe you think too much. In the meantime, Blaise, my man, let's have some fun."

"You see, last night, I figured out _one_ benefit of living with Gryffindors."

"And what's that?"

"None of them have ever been the subject of our pranks."

Malfoy broke into a grin that reached his eyes, "New year, new subjects, new pranks."


	2. Where the Wild Wizards Are

**Disclaimer: **JKR's characters and world.

**Eye of the Storm**

**Chapter Two – Where the Wild Wizards Are: Everyone Pt 2  
**

After breakfast, the sixth years ambled along the corridors to attend their first Life Skills class. It was not one that sounded particularly interesting, but everyone was still intrigued. It was to be something new in the regimented Hogwarts timetable. The new classroom had been converted into long rows of seats facing a solitary table with a small lady seated on the other side. Her brown hair was styled in a sleek French twist and she made no distinguishable expression as the students milled in. When everyone took their seats, she stood up briskly and began to speak. "Welcome to your first Life Skills class. My name is Demelza Bane, but you will address me as Professor Bane. For this compulsory course instated by the Ministry of Magic, I will be your teacher. I'm not one for mindless pleasantries, so let's just begin. We will have class once a week, and I will come for a checkup to each of your dormitories once a week also.

Her loud booming voice sliced across the room, "You will be given tasks and assignments. Keep in mind that these are different things. An increasing amount of tasks will be given to you each week that must continue for the duration of the course. An assignment is a single thing to complete. Understand?" without pausing, she continued, "Ok. So, I'd like one person from each group to stand up." Groups looked around at each other, questioning who would stand. Hermione stood up for group two. "Quickly now, yes. Alright, I am now handing each group representative a log book. Fill this in as a documentation of your tasks. Sign them now to enact a magical contract that states you will not lie in this book. If you do not sign, you automatically fail." All the students signed quickly.

"Alright. Your first task, which will be continued in weeks to come, is to organise and complete cooking and cleaning duties, _without magic_. House elves will no longer clean up after you," Hermione beamed, "so it is your duty to keep the dormitory spotless. You will also need to cook for yourselves, supplies are currently arriving now. You are now all effectively banned from the Great Hall. Remember to divide these tasks evenly and record them in your log book. Anyone found to be slacking off will receive a punishment. Remember to cooperate and show initiative. To allow you to better adjust, you will not be given an assignment for this week. Now please take out your quills and parchment, I will now outline to you various skills required to cook and techniques to clean." The lesson continued with Professor Bane demonstrating different ways to dust and three non magical ways to remove stains. Each time a student almost allowed a daydream to enter their mind, her powerful voice would knock away the daze.

* * *

Hermione lay the logbook open and folded the first page over, allowing it to crease before speaking, "So how are we going to divide our tasks? We have to have people cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as to clean up the bathroom, bedroom, living room and kitchen." She looked at the five people around her, all leaning around the kitchen bench top.

"Why don't we combine cleaning the living room and kitchen. Then we'll have six tasks, and there's six of us..." Blaise looked around for confirmation.

"Sounds good as long as I'm not cleaning the toilets." drawled Malfoy.

"No we can't, remember, Professor Bane said that we have to cooperate." retorted Hermione.

Blaise leaned in, took the logbook and began to draw a grid. "Ok why don't we split into pairs and each pair will have two tasks each."

Harry ran his fingers through his unruly hair and added, "One cleaning and one cooking task per pair to spread it around." The group murmured in agreement.

"Ok... so pairs." said Hermione. Harry and Ron subtly looked at each other whilst Malfoy and Zabini did the same.

Pansy shook her head ferociously, "Don't even _think _about leaving me with _her._ We''ll have to draw pairs out of a hat."

Hermione shot across a glare, "And I suppose you think that you're rainbows and sunshine?"

"No... just not," Pansy's gaze slowly travelled up and down Hermione's body, "frizzy and unkempt."

Blaise wrote down six names on six sheets of ripped paper as Hermione leaned back and crossed her arms, "At least I have more than two brain cells to rub together."

Pansy raised her eyebrow, "At least my solitary brain cell knows that if it can brush it's mangy cat's hair, it should also be able to brush its own." Hermione subconsciously ran her fingers through her hair.

"Enough." silenced Blaise, "I'm going to draw the names out of this bowl. Is that alright with everyone? Ok. Good." He reached in and pulled out two pieces of paper, "...Hermione Granger, you have the pleasure of being partnered with..." Blaise fumbled to open the second sheet from its scrunched ball, "the lovely Mr Malfoy."

"That's an oxymoron." she stated simply.

"My, Granger, aren't we short today?" smirked Malfoy, "On the rag?"

"No, _Malfoy_, I just tend to get like this when surrounded by idiots." she smiled wryly.

Malfoy looked at Harry and Ron, who had both been uncharacteristically silent throughout the exchange, "So you two are used to this behavior then?"

It took Ron a moment before the insult registered, "Sod off, Malfoy."

"Playtime's over, children." smirked Blaise, "Let's finish this so we can end this lovely chat." He pulled out two more names. "Ok, Potter and ... Pansy. Which leaves me and Weasley I guess." He wrote these details down. "Granger and Malfoy can make breakfast since their names were drawn first, Potter and Pansy can make lunch because their names were drawn next and Weasley and I can make dinner. Good?" Everyone nodded.

Head down and writing, Blaise continued, "So Weasley and I will clean the kitchen and living room since we'll be last in there at night?" he looked at Ron, who shrugged in agreement. "Ok, Draco and Granger can clean the bedrooms since Draco will kill me if he's on toilet duty. Which leaves Pans and Potter on toilet patrol." Blaise finished writing and looked up to see Pansy staring at him looking nonplussed.

"No. I refuse. I am not cleaning the _toilet_." Pansy crossed her arms in defiance.

"Sorry." replied Blaise, his face in mock apology, "It's already been written down. We have to follow it or we'll get in trouble."

A look of range flitted across Pansy's face before she slowly smiled, "Ok Zabini. Remember this moment." She then stomped into the kitchen and started pulling things out of the basket of supplies before yelling out, "Potter! Get in here! I'm not doing this by myself!"

* * *

Zabini and Malfoy walked briskly down to the Quidditch Pitch as daylight turned to twilight after a trying day.

"I can't believe that your mother got you the Nimbus 4000!" Draco sulked slightly.

"I told you, she's really fixated by this fear of His return. She bought me this in case I ever need a 'fast escape' since we're neutral." grinned Blaise. "She told me they put it in the broom closet for me." The broom closet was more like a broom warehouse, in which all the Quidditch players or broomstick owners could store their brooms.

Pulling open the large door, they began to walk down the corridor to the Slytherin brooms. Hearing voices coming from another room, Malfoy put his fingers to his lips and both boys listened.

"_I... well, I _think _I like her. I want to kiss her... a lot... and..."_

"It's Weasley." whispered Malfoy, "I'd recognise that blustering voice anywhere."

"_...Well yes, then you like her. Why don't you just ask her out?"_

"Potter." deduced Zabini.

"_What if she says no?"_

"_What've you got to lose?"_

"_My dignity? And besides, her and Parvati have the biggest mouths in Gryffindor! The whole school would know."_

"_I'm sure she wouldn't tell anyone."_

_"Yeah I'm not sure. Let's just let things happen and see how we go."_

_"Fine, but that's what you've been doing for the past six months or whatever!"_

_"I dunno... Let's go, I need a shower, and Harry - you reek."  
_

Zabini leaned his head to Malfoy's ear, "How about we take our brooms out for a spin? I hear that Autumn zephyrs and broomsticks are great for plotting and starcrossed lovers." Malfoy replied with a grin.

* * *

Malfoy and Hermione both heard the faint chiming of a clock, ringing seven distinct times, as they headed towards the kitchen whilst everyone else was sleeping.

"This is a truly ungodly hour, Granger." yawned Malfoy. He was wearing only a cloak over his underwear, as opposed to Hermione, who was already dressed in a crisp starched white shirt and neat school skirt.

Hermione tried to ignore the flashes of his chest everytime he moved. She raised her eyebrows, "I wasn't aware that it was so difficult for you to wear a shirt."

"I wasn't aware that you were such a prude, I'll keep that in mind next time you demand that we be awake at 7 to make breakfast."

"Sorry, it's just that the glowing whiteness of your chest was blinding my vision." replied Hermione icily.

Malfoy opened his mouth, paused, and closed it.

"Today, we're going to make pancakes. We just need flour, eggs, milk, butter and sugar." instructed Hermione in a bossy manner as she passed him the recipe she had written down.

Malfoy signed insolently, "This is house-elves' work!"

Hermione flared up immediately, "House-elves deserve rights, just like we do! It's not fair to enslave another species for our benefit! How would you feel like it if we were servants to giants and trolls?"

"I don't know. I probably wouldn't like it. But I'm not a servant, so I don't give a damn." replied Malfoy in a tired manner. "Can we just finish cooking so that I can enjoy the pleasure of the lack of your company?"

"Fine. You take this bowl and mix the ingredients when I give them to you."

As Hermione gave him the carefully measured ingredients, Malfoy dumped them precariously into the bowl, sloshing the batter around with a large spoon, ignoring the large lumps of flour. He looked up to the door labeled "Witches" and wondered if there was a spell to stop boys from entering. He also wondered, if, like in the Slytherin dungeons, one could bypass the spell by skipping every second step. The thought of Pansy up there all alone made him want to try.

A shout of "Malfoy!" knocked him out of his reverie. "The batter's not supposed to be lumpy! What have you done?"

He shrugged.

"Go and set the table! I'll fix this!" Hermione grabbed the bowl and started stabbing the spoon into the mixture.

The sudden shock of Granger's yelling allowed a burst of clarity into Malfoy's mind as he gathered cups and plates, "Hey Granger..."

Hermione looked up, "Yes?"

"Who would you say is the most loud-mouthed girl in Gryffindor?"

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, "Why?"

"Some Ravenclaws were talking about it the other day, I just wondered who it was." replied Malfoy without skipping a beat.

"I never took you for a gossip, Malfoy." She shrugged, "It'd have to be a tie between Lavender or Parvati."

"Lavender, you say? Are you sure?"

"As sure as I am that I spent countless nights being unable to sleep because of those two gossiping and spreading rumours into the wee hours." answered Hermione bitterly. "Why do you want to know so bad?"

"Right." Malfoy returned back to setting the table nonchalantly. "No reason."

When Ron went to breakfast that morning to eat Hermione and Malfoy's pancakes with everyone, his owl was the only that came with mail. He untied the letter, which read:

_Dear Ron,_

_It's Lavender. I've noticed you for a long time and I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do and I might have a lot to lose, but I just want to tell you that I fancy you. If you feel the same way, after Transfiguration, just come up and kiss me. If you don't you don't do anything, I will understand. Whatever you do, please don't mention this letter, because I've never done anything like this before and it's terribly embarrassing, but I just feel so strongly._

_xx Lavender._

Malfoy and Blaise shared a brief smile as they saw Ron break into a wide smile and his cheeks being tinted with pink.

"What does it say?" asked Hermione inquisitively.

He stuffed the letter into his cloak, unable to restrain his smile. "Nothing, nothing important."

"Well it obviously says something important, since you're smiling like an idiot, Weasel." stated Pansy between bites of syrupy pancakes. She teased, "Is it a _love_ letter?"

Malfoy and Blaise passed an unnoticed look that seemed to say, _how does she know_? However, one look that didn't go unnoticed by Pansy was Hermione's one of uncertainty.

* * *

During Transfiguration, Hermione, along with the rest of the class, did not fail to notice Ron's increasingly flirtatious glances towards Lavender, who returned them happily. However, it was only Pansy that noticed the third member of this exchange: Hermione's nervous and increasingly unhappy glances towards Ron and Lavender, both unreturned. Blaise frowned at Malfoy, muttering, "Who knew she'd actually like him? ...This prank is kind of a failure."

"I know, who likes redheads anyway?" he whispered back, "Just wait, she might just be a tease. He might end up getting humiliated after all."

As the bell rung, the whole class saw Ron pounce on Lavender as soon as they exited the classroom.

Blaise shook his head, "Guess not."

Pansy smiled when she saw Hermione sprint off to their next class rather than her usual brisk walk. Her smile turned into a grin when in their next class, Hermione not only turned up late, but with puffy eyes too.

* * *

After a hilarious afternoon catchup with Millicent and Daphne, Pansy decided to return to her dorm to see just how much more fun she could have. Opening the door, she caught Hermione wiping her puffy eyes hastily.

Pansy walked over to her chest of drawers and removed a towel and her pajamas, "Don't you think the world is just so poetic?"

Hermione looked up slowly, "How?"

Pansy smiled indulgently, tucking her dark brown hair behind her ear, "Well, you're in a red house, and in it that particular house is a particular red-haired boy. And it mustn't all be a coincidence, because your eyes are red!" She laughed cruelly as she walked to the bathroom, "I'll leave you to ponder those implications.

* * *

A few hours later, in the dead of the night, the only sounds that could be heard were the odd cricket or owl, as well as the hushed tones of Draco Malfoy whispering, "Blaise, get up, Plan B." A couple of _Stupefies,_ _Petrificus Totaluses, _grunts, thuds and snaps later, silence encompassed the room and no more noise was heard until the next morning.

Harry woke the next morning feeling dangerously close to the side of his bed and surprisingly warm. His left arm felt numb and his right hand was touching something hairy. He snapped awake when he heard muffled moans of, "Oh Lavender..." beside him. In that instant, Harry realised exactly why he was close to the side of his bed, warm, numb and feeling hairyness. Ron lay beside him, they were spooning each other and his hand seemed to be... nestled in Ron's chest hair. With a start, Harry yelled out "Ron!" loudly as he tried to push him away. Ron's sleeping figure did not shift and instead, Harry propelled himself onto the ground with a bang. Coldness whipped around his uncovered torso and legs, which he was sure he covered up with pajamas last night. Getting up, Harry only saw the blur of a figure on his bed. He yelled "Ron!" once again. Only then, did Ron rouse.

* * *

**A/N: Send any constructive criticism my way please! It's hard juggling six characters living in close confines + trying to keep them in character, and I'm not sure if I'm being too lengthy or boring or anything, so tell me please :)  
**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! It's insanely appreciated!**


	3. All About Pansy: Pansy

**A/N:** I thought I'd add a 'last time' thing like they do in tv shows coz I find that heaps of the time I get a story update or something and am completely confused about what's happening when I start to read.

**Eye of the Storm**

**Chapter Three – All About Pansy: Pansy**

_Last time: Malfoy and Zabini decide to prank Ron by sending him a fake love letter from Lavender, which backfires when it turns out she likes him too. Hermione is upset by this and Pansy notices. Malfoy and Zabini then decide to put Ron and Harry in bed together. _

Each morning when she woke, Pansy would stick to a regimented routine: fight for the shower, dry her hair, moisturise, comb her hair, fight for the mirror, apply her makeup in front a well-earned spot in front of the mirror, and finally, eat breakfast while gossiping about any who looked like they didn't get any or enough sleep and why. However, living with Granger was quite different – it was very quiet.

Each morning, Granger would be preparing breakfast whilst Pansy was still trying to grasp her last moments of beauty sleep. And if Hermione was still there, it didn't matter anyway; she took five minute showers and barely looked in the mirror before leaving. It seemed like a liberating idea to Pansy, but she'd never admit it.

Satisfied with the amount of mascara covering her lashes, she screwed the brush back into the tube. Smiling, she placed it back into her drawer. With a final smoothing of her uniform, Pansy left to face the day.

She smiled lazily at Draco, who was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, "What's for breakfast?"

"Omelettes." He smirked and handed her a photo, "But, more importantly, look." He gestured to a picture of Potter and Weasley in bed together. Both were half naked and entangled in precarious positions. Pansy smirked, "This is a bit reminiscent of Crabbe and Goyle second year, don't you think?"

A dark figure suddenly swept beside her, "You know our work too well, Pansy."

"Thank you. I do take pride in my appreciation of the fine arts." she simpered, "What are you going to do with it?"

Draco shrugged, "We snapped the picture and left before they were awake, so they have no idea." He looked at Blaise for confirmation, "We'll keep it for a while, release it when the time's right, yeah?"

Blaise nodded. "So what have you cooked up for us today, Draco; none of that lumpy pancake crap from yesterday, thanks."

Draco scowled, "Omelettes. And that wasn't _my_ fault, I've never cooked before! Granger should've told me to mix in the flour properly."

Pansy cocked an eyebrow, "I thought you were just naturally great at everything. My pristine image of you is now shattered, Draco Malfoy."

"I thought it would've been shattered ages ago." laughed Blaise. "Especially with the non-pristine things you two get up to."

"Yeah, well– I'm _naturally _great at those things Blaise."

Pansy smirked, "You mustn't tell all your secrets to Blaise. Anyway, breakfast?"

"We already had some - we're going for a walk now. See you in potions."

"You're no fun." Pansy gave both a hug and kiss on the cheek before they turned and left through the portrait. She inspected both boys' slight figures as they walked out. Although they both wore the same uniform in the I-wear-this-messy-because-I'm-too-cool way (even though she knew it took them more time than to simply tuck their shirts), they were vastly different, even from the back.

Draco was shorter and his light colouring contrasted with Blaise's dark skin and hair. Draco was the closest thing to a boyfriend Pansy had ever had, and Blaise was the closest thing to a best friend. She and Draco had been friends with benefits before either knew what it meant. They had shared their first kiss with each other, and every other kind of 'first' in their foray into adulthood. Pansy had never liked the idea of dating – it screwed you up. That's not to say that they both hadn't tried.

Once, lying in bed together, Draco attempted to start a conversation about his feelings. It was the first and last time he tried to reach out to her. Pansy didn't know what to say, and she felt too self conscious to open up. That was their last venture into anything remotely relationship-like. It wasn't to say that they didn't tell each other things; they did. Draco told her how he felt a huge amount of pressure for a Quidditch game, and she mentioned how Daphne was being a bitch by undermining her, but neither would dare to share their deepest hopes and dreams with each other. It was difficult to, when their entire courtship was based on their quick wit, excessive pride and infallible façades.

Pansy wrinkled her nose at the memory; it was the first time in a long time that she had been lost for words. Words could hide everything; she hated when they failed her.

Pansy realised how deep she was in thought when she suddenly noticed that all the Gryffindors were seated around her, almost finishing their omelettes, whilst she had eaten hardly any. Potter and Weasley were barely talking to each other, both slightly red and looking markedly confused.

Granger, looking confused at the distinct awkwardness, asked, "Harry, can you pass the milk?"

Potter picked up the almost empty jug of milk and passed it to Weasley to pass to Granger. As he did so, Potter's hands briefly met with Weasley's, causing Weasley to jump back and Potter to drop the jug. Pansy did not try to stifle her laughter. She looked at Weasley's red face, who had now begun to wipe up the spilt milk. Her eyes travelled down to red whiskery things coming out of his chin.

She frowned, "Weasley, next time you shave why don't you stand a few centimetres closer to the razor?"

"I'm growing it out!" he replied indignantly.

"Oh forgive me, I must've missed the notice that said looking like a troll is acceptable now." She looked at Potter, "Potter, I know you don't have the greatest taste, but can you honesty say it looks _good_?" asked Pansy in disbelief.

Potter muttered a non committal reply.

* * *

Sixth year classes seemed longer than ever before and it felt like an eternity before Pansy had to return to their common room to make lunch.

Harry rushed in, slightly red in the face and a few minutes late.

"Hey Potty. You're late." observed Pansy.

"Sorry, I lost track of time."

"Well, we're making pasta. I've started the sauce, can you start cooking the pasta?"

Potter quickly assembled the pasta and water in the pot, the bubbling of the water and slow simmering of the sauce the only noises in the room. Pansy was attentively adding herbs and seasoning to her pot of sauce. The aroma drifted over to Potter.

"It smells nice." he ventured.

"Thanks." she replied automatically.

A few more moments of silence passed before Pansy asked, "Are Weasley and Lavender dating yet?"

"Not sure." shrugged Harry, "He works a bit slow."

"I've noticed." commented Pansy. She looked up at Harry, "So… are you going to tell him his 'beard' looks terrible or is he going to have to realise it himself?"

Harry cracked a smile, "Isn't it better that he figures it out by himself?"

"So you _do_ think it's shocking."

"I guess, but I don't want to hurt his feelings."

"He's starting to look like something Hagrid would fancy as a pet."

"You don't really censor yourself, do you?"

Pansy tasted the sauce from the tip of her spoon, "Yum…What's the point of lying? It'll only be worse for Weasley later. Say, if your fly was open, would you want me to tell you, or would you prefer to discover by yourself? You either get outwardly embarrassed for a moment, _or,_ when you _finally_ discover it at the end of the day, you realise that the ten different people you talked to all probably noticed, and all of them didn't tell you."

"I guess you're right." Potter smiled at her in a friendly kind of way, but she looked away, pretending not to notice.

"By the way, your fly's undone." He looked down and his hand immediately flew to his crotch, pulling up the zipper quickly.

He looked at her for a moment, "Thanks."

* * *

As much as she tried to ignore it, Pansy felt an unfamiliar feeling of sympathy over the next few days. Weasley had, indeed, begun to date Lavender, and very publicly at that. If you went to the bathroom, they would be outside snogging. If you were trying to get to your next class, they would be in the corridor holding hands. If you stumbled into the wrong classroom, they would be there running their hands all over each other. Even Pansy felt a little shame for their actions. However, the feeling of sympathy was accompanied with pure disgust: Weasley's stubble had now grown to about half a centimetre, and he continued to ignore Pansy's fervent disapproval each morning.

The more Pansy saw Weasley and Lavender broadcasting their relationship, the less she saw Granger. At night, Pansy would hear an occasional muffled sob and the next morning, red puffy eyes. It was too pathetic to even tease her about.

On the third day, she gave Granger a bottle of eye cream to reduce the puffiness. "Um, Granger, I don't usually do this but…" Pansy frowned, she wasn't used to acts of charity, least of all to Granger. She was used to Daphne or Millicent crying their eyes out over boys, but Granger seemed the most unlikely candidate to do such a silly thing. Pansy almost felt bad. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Granger sniffed and looked suspiciously at Pansy, "Why?"

"I only do one good deed a day, and today, it's going to be you." Pansy looked at Hermione, who was clutching her cat as if it were all she had in the world. _You also have no friends to talk to_ thought Pansy. Even she had Millicent and Daphne to talk to, if she ever got herself into a stupid situation like this. Although Pansy would never do such a thing: she was great at internalising, she stilll felt sorry that Granger didn't have that option.

"I don't believe you." Granger's voice was distrusting.

"I don't really care about spreading your secrets, if that's what you're worried about. You're not really good friends with any other girls, and you of all people are not supposed to cry like this. I just want everything to go back to normal. Is that good enough? But if you don't want to talk don't worry about it." Pansy turned to go.

"Wait. What do you mean by me of all people?" she blew her nose loudly into a handkerchief.

"I didn't think that you'd be stupid enough to be upset over a relationship."

Granger looked slightly offended as she dabbed at her eyes, "Why is it stupid to be upset?"

"Because relationships are stupid." replied Pansy simply. "They fuck you up."

"I don't think it's only me that needs to talk." smiled Granger wryly.

Pansy walked over to Granger's bed and sat down. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, we're talking about _your_ feelings or we're not talking at all."

"Alright." Granger cast her eyes downward, utterly dishevelled, "It's just that... Well... It all started when..." She struggled to get the words out.

"Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone that's got nothing invested in the situation than someone who has. Just talk to me, Granger. This isn't an essay, I'm not a teacher. Just let it out." offered Pansy.

Granger started to play with the fabric of her skirt in her lap, "I like Ron. I _like like_ him, and I don't know when exactly it started, but it feels like it's been forever. Sometimes I think he knows, and sometimes I think he doesn't. And I just really want to know how he feels, so I can pursue it or move on. But I can't really ask him can I? And I can't ask Harry because Harry isn't very subtle at anything, and I can't ask Ginny because well, Ginny's his sister and it's weird. And they're the only two other people I can ask advice about anything from, and they're both out of the picture. And this Lavender thing. It just feels like he betrayed me, but it's not like we had anything he _could_ betray. Half of me knows that they actually like each other, and the other half of me hopes that it's a ploy to make me jealous, which is a completely farfetched idea, but I still hope.

"And I told Ginny that I liked someone, and I asked her for advice. She told me to be myself! I mean, what does that even mean? It's perfectly fine to be herself for her, she has guys falling over at her feet! She's naturally charming and gorgeous and witty. Of course _she_ can just be herself!"

Pansy looked at Granger in a way that was both amused and concerned, "You sure keep a lot hidden underneath your frumpy clothes, Granger. Being yourself is the worst advice that anyone could've given you." Hermione looked, clearly wounded, "No, not in that way, just, for your circumstance. You've been friends with Weasley since forever. And you've 'been yourself' all whilst being friends. And now, since you, for some unholy reason, find Weasley attractive, if you continue to 'be yourself', he'll never know the difference. Change, do something different; show him that you've morphed from friend into potential girlfriend."

"Well what do you suggest I do?" asked Granger hopelessly.

Pansy looked at the sadness in her eyes and suddenly regretted talking to Granger. This was too weird. "I'm sure you'll think of something. I, for one, have no idea how to seduce a Weasley, and never intend to." Pansy stood up, wrapping up the conversation, "You can be yourself, Granger, but be a different version of yourself. Show Weasley a side that he's never seen before. And if you struggle to do that, just pretend. Pretend that you're fabulous, in control, charming, or whatever you want to be. Keep pretending, and if you can lie to yourself, you can lie to others." Pansy turned to head towards the door. She grasped the door handle and turned around, "By the way, don't think that we're friends. I only did this to stop your feral sobs in the middle of the night and to protect myself from the sorry sight of you crying. I hate you and you hate me. Nothing's changed."

But of course, it had begun to.

A burnt scent drifted through the open door. Hermione sniffed, "Is that dinner?"

"I guess so. By the way, next time you need a friend – get another cat" Pansy shrugged and walked out.

The clink and clatter of cutlery was more conversational than the six seated around the dining room table. Pansy was deep in thought, trying to understand why she had been kind to Granger, and in her moments back to consciousness, she noticed that everyone else seemed to be lost in contemplation. Draco had a light pondering expression, Blaise and Weasley were both smiling in thought (although Blaise looked considerably better doing so), Granger looked distinctively embarrassed and Potter just seemed to be eating.

"Slytherin and Gryffindor have prefect patrol duties tonight." Granger kept her eyes trained on her dinner or Potter as she spoke, although he was not a prefect.

"Wow, it's only me and Zabini here tonight." remarked Potter.

"Your amazing insight continues to astound me." commented Draco dryly. "By the way, Blaise, what exactly _is_ this?" He signalled at his plate with the fork.

Blaise glared at Weasley before looking back at Draco, "It was _supposed_ to be a pie, but Weasley managed to ignite the surface of it, so now we're eating the remnants."

Weasley said in an exasperated voice, as if they had had this conversation a few times tonight, "I _told_ you not to trust me with it!" He took in a large mouthful, "And anyway, it still tastes pretty nice!"

Pansy kicked Hermione and gave her a look as if to say _I have no idea what you see in that._

A muted bell tolled and Hermione jolted upwards, "Alright, let's go. It's now past curfew."

Draco slowly and deliberately wiped his mouth, "Granger, slow down, let some wayward lovers say their goodbyes first… Let them have some fun, haven't you ever…?" He and Blaise exchanged smirks, "Or not." he answered.

A moment of silence passed as Hermione tried to fluster through a response. Pansy felt a twinge of embarrassment for her and cut in, "Draco, don't you know? Granger has wild orgies at night; she sneaks out all the time." She took his large hand in hers, "And let's go, I just _love_ big, dark, empty corridors."

His fingers intertwined against hers, "You took the words right out of my mouth."

Granger gave her a look as if to say thanks as she and Weasley followed Pansy and Draco out. The Slytherins turned left and the Gryffindors, right.

Once she and Draco were a few corridors away, his grip on her hand tightened, "I wanted to talk to you tonight, Pansy."

"We _are_ talking." she pointed out.

"No, _talk._" He stopped and pulled her around to face him, their hands still knotted, "I think we should go out."

She froze for a moment, "Why this new development?"

"We've been dancing around each other for ages, Pans, I like you, and I think you like me too. We're basically mutual anyway."

Her hand felt sweaty, "As you said, we're basically mutual, why do we need a label?"

"I likethe sound of boyfriend and girlfriend. I think it's nice." He looked into her eyes.

Pansy looked up, instead focusing on his hair. She had thought about being in a relationship with him many times, having a future with Draco, marrying him even; although it was not in the dreaming-for-the-future way, but considering-her-options way. If she had to marry someone, she was sure that out of all the inevitably unhappy marriages she could enter into, she would be least unhappy with Draco. "Of course I'll be your girlfriend." She smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Good." he smiled widely, a rarity. Draco plucked the large emerald ring from his index finger and slid it onto her middle finger. It felt like the heaviest thing in the world.

* * *

Pansy and Draco returned to the common room well after Prefect duty had finished for the night. Both their lips were slightly swollen and her neck was covered in three large purple hickeys. The common room was empty apart from Weasley and Potter playing wizard's chess. They were sitting very far away from the table, from each other. Draco kissed her goodnight and sauntered up to bed.

Pansy started to walk to her dormitory, until she passed Weasley and Potter's game and stopped. Potter was biting his lip and looking confused. She sighed, "Potter, you're completely hopeless. A troll could play better than you!" She stood for a moment, watching as he was about to move the bishop, "No!" she yelled, grabbing instead the knight and moving it for him. "Weasley would've had you."

"Thanks" he grinned sheepishly.

Pansy had a spark of genius, "Hey Weasley, if Potter and I beat you, will you shave that awful thing off your chin?"

"It's not awful. And you're not going to beat me, I'm about to beat Harry."

Pansy assessed the board once again, "Take it or leave it, Weasley. You might be surprised."

Weasley looked at her, confidence written all over his face, "Fine, but if I beat you two, and I will, you can never comment on my stubble again, you'll have to accept that it's manly, sexy and adds character." He thought for a moment, "And you have to compliment me for a month, and sound honest." He smiled, "Take it or leave it, Parkinson."

Pansy pulled up a chair and smiled. "Take it."

* * *

**A/N:** I thought that I'd start a thing where each chapter is based around a character, like in Skins. Is this a good idea? Please review and tell me! :)

Also, other thoughts? Any couples you'd like to see together? Whatever's happening now is all changing soon.


	4. Cloudy with a Chance of Pranks: Ron

**Chapter Four**

**_Ron: Cloudy with a Chance of Pranks_**

**_

* * *

_**

_Last time: Blaise and Draco have a picture of Ron and Harry in bed together; Pansy unexpectedly comforts Hermione in a time of need and accepts to be Draco's girlfriend. _

Ron had barely talked to Harry for the past couple of days. It was simply too weird. The feeling of embarrassment, confusion and slight disgust still lingered in his memory like cobwebs not fully brushed away. There were too many questions to fully combat, each more uncomfortable than the next. He did not know what to think about Harry, and he could not imagine what Harry thought of him.

As a result, he let the issue lay untouched, collecting dust in his mind, hoping to be unconsciously swept to a far corner without notice. And it seemed to be working, as talking to Harry seemed less strange as the days went by.

However, Hermione was a different matter. It was as if she got out of the wrong side of bed every day and channeled all that into Ron. Her eyes were always slightly puffy, but he did not know what to say to her. There was also the issue that if he did, she would bite his head off and start frothing at the mouth.

So in the absence of his two closest friends, Ron turned to Lavender. It gave him a nice feeling everyday waking up and knowing that there was someone who wanted to see him, talk to him, snog him. She made him feel funny, witty, smart and good looking.

* * * * *

Ron leaned back and tried to concentrate on the potions textbook. The words were read in his mind, but they didn't untangle themselves to mean anything.

Ron felt the cushion of the sofa sag beside him with the pressure of someone sitting. He looked to his side.

Blaise was sitting uncomfortably close. "Hey Ron…" he breathed huskily.

"Er… Hi… Blaise." Ron returned to his book determinedly. He didn't understand why Zabini had to sit almost on top of him when there was room on the other two metres of the sofa.

"So, anyway." Blaise leaned in closer, if that was possible, "I saw you and Potter the other day… I didn't know you Beated for the other team."

Ron froze for a moment before he snapped his book shut and stood up in the same motion. "I don't know what you're talking about." He added sheepishly. "I… have to go to…I have to go now."

As he walked away, howls of laughter broke across the room, and everything seemed to make a little more sense.

Ron walked into the dorm, quickly putting away his book. As he fumbled around with his books, Harry came out of the shower. Ron turned around and a moment of awkwardness passed before he spoke, "Harry – you know the other day?"

"What other day?" replied Harry blankly.

"The other morning… when we…" mumbled Ron, looking around the room.

Harry caught on, "Oh! Oh…"

"I think that Zabini and Malfoy had something to do with it."

"How do you know?"

"It's…" Ron didn't want to recount what had just happened, "…just a hunch. I mean, like… we've never… you know?"

Harry seemed to know exactly what he meant and nodded fervently, "Well… yeah, you're right. Um, that's good… You had me worried there."

Awkwardness still lingered, "Yeah." muttered Ron, "So I think we should get them back."

"What do they care about the most…?"The two boys down with a piece of parchment and planned in hushed voices, not remembering the time until they were late.

* * * * *

Lavender sighed as Ron dashed into the courtyard, finally. "You're late." She crossed her arms, "Again."

"Sorry." came Ron's reply, "Busy planning secret business." He grinned.

Lavender laughed and leaned back against the tree, "You? Sure." She didn't sound very convinced.

Ron frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smiled, "I mean, it's you. Doing secret stuff? You're probably the most clumsy, loud person I know. You and stealth? Don't think so." She pulled him close, "But that doesn't matter. I think you're fine just the way you are."

Ron smiled, "Fine, but I'll show you, just you wait." He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pushed her harder against the tree. He leaned in and Lavender's lips parted automatically. Just as they were about to kiss, a shower of leaves from the tree fell down in a heap. They jumped apart.

"What was that?"

"Crazy trees…" muttered Ron, walked backwards, dragging her into the middle of the courtyard, far from any trees. With his back turned, he did not see what Lavender saw: a head of brown bushy hair walk off quickly. She frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." replied Lavender, as she wrapped her arms around him again, "So… what were we up to?"

* * * * *

That night, Lavender made an extra effort to sit away from Ron and next to Hermione at dinner. She watched Hermione pick at her roast for a while before leaning in, "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Excuse me?" asked Hermione, confused.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." replied Hermione, in the same you're-so-stupid tone that she normally spoke to Lavender in.

Lavender glared daggers, "Well let me make it very clear for you: Stay. Away. From me and my boyfriend." She continued quickly before Hermione could cut in, her expression completely changed, "I saw you today, you freak. You're so obsessed with him!" Her voice grew shriller, "Just get over it!"

A few heads had turned now. "Look, Lavender –"

Lavender cut in, "I don't care what your little explanation is, just _stay away_." She pushed her dinner away and walked off to find Ron, who was now nowhere in sight.

* * * * *

"Do you think this will work?"

"Of course it will. And it'll be hilarious. I can't believe we thought of it."

"Malfoy's going to be so mad. And Zabini's going to be very upset."

Silence passed as the boys concentrated on their tasks.

"Do you think I make a good partner in crime?"

"…Yeah, why?"

"Well, Lavender said that I'm not stealthy and sly."

"…Uh, well, I mean…"

Ron spoke over Harry, not really listening to him. "So I'm going to prove her wrong."

"Is this what this is about?"

"…Maybe. And revenge?"

"- Shit! They're coming!"

Harry and Ron placed the carefully labeled bottles of 'Zabini' and 'Malfoy' hastily back in the cupboard before leaving the bathroom.

They went to bed with sweet dreams after that.

* * * * *

Zabini had woken up early this morning by Malfoy forgetting to close the blinds after he left. Tired, but unable to return to sleep, he decided to have a shower.

Adjusting the water until it was a perfect lukewarm; Zabini stepped in, bringing with him his bottle of conditioner. He had stopped using shampoo after he found out Malfoy didn't use shampoo. A dollop of conditioner was gently worked into his deep brown waves. He massaged his scalp gently, relishing the sensation. As he combed his fingers through his hair, he felt a strange feeling.

A handful of hair had come out in his palm. He clutched at his head, feeling more locks fall out as he did so. His panic level had risen from none to maximum in 3 seconds.

* * * * *

As Malfoy made pancakes with Hermione, he noticed that she had not talked the whole time, rather, resigned only to looking sad, tired and puffy.

"Hey Granger, you're not yourself today. A welcome improvement." he smirked.

She shot a caustic glare, "I'm not in the mood, Malfoy."

No retaliation.

He frowned and paused for a moment. "Why? You should be happy!"

"And why would that be?" she replied in a tired way.

"You've currently got the perfect weapon against wild dogs, rapists, murders -"

"Does this have a point?" she asked whilst flipping over the golden side.

"You're supposed to ask what the weapon is."

Hermione gaped, "Your hair, Malfoy!"

"What? No. Are you daft?" He scowled.

"No! Malfoy – your hair! Look at it!"

He reached for the nearest shiny surface – a pan – and pored into his reflection.

"My hair! It's blue!" He pulled at it, inspected it. All the while, it transitioned from a light sky blue to a bright electric blue. "What did you do, Granger?"

"Nothing!" She put her hands up in surrender.

He looked outraged, "I was just joking, I didn't know you were so sensitive, you stupid bint! Take it back! Take it back!" He stomped his foot petulantly.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the sight, "It wasn't me, I promise! It must be magical hair dye or something similar, that's got a time delay. Did you accident get some in your hair or something?"

"Oh yeah, I accidentally got dye in my hair and just forgot about it!" His sarcasm was now coloured with hysterics. "Help me, Granger, don't just stand there!"

At that moment, Zabini burst through the door into the common room, completely nude, screaming, "My hair!"

* * *

A/N: I didn't really like this chapter, coz I don't like writing about Ron, so it took me a long time to write. Butttt please read and review and bear with me, next chapter will be better, I promise!


	5. The Dark Night: Blaise

**Chapter Five**

_**The Dark Night: Blaise**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**Last time:** Hermione proves to be more invested in Ron, attracting Lavender's attention whilst doing so. Ron and Harry retaliate against Blaise and Malfoy by dying their hair and making it fall off. _

* * *

Blaise heard the austere voice of Professor Bane sweep across the room, but it did not penetrate his consciousness. He and Draco passed notes to each other, plotting and planning ways to retaliate against Potter and Weasley. The incident a few days ago was still a sore subject, and anger heightened each time Blaise caught his reflection on a shiny surface or glimpsed Potter and Weasley's proud and euphoric smirks. Currently, he was drawing a particularly graphic sketch of the two Gryffindor boys taped high above the group in a Hogwarts Quidditch hoop with a wry grin.

His ears perked up as he heard, "… new task this week." Blaise looked up.

"You have now been cooking and cleaning for a week now. You may have noticed that your basket of supplies appeared miraculously on the kitchen top on your first day. That will be no more. From now on, two of you, a different pair each week, will go to Hogsmeade to buy your supplies with a budget of thirty galleons. Everything will be budgeted from that. You are probably now thinking which two of you will go?

"Which leads me onto my next point. After evaluating your log books prior to the lesson, I noticed that one group in particular satisfied and exceeded all the expectations of last week's task in their division of housework. They separated into pairs to complete two varied tasks each. Those pairs all contained people from different houses, and when possible, different genders. That is a truly egalitarian method, I'd like to commend group two."

Hermione beamed.

"They have received a bonus of five extra galleons. Those pairs will now continue onto be the pairs that shop at Hogsmeade. For those groups that have not split into pairs, please do so when your return to your dorms. For groups that _have _split into pairs, but do not represent inter-house pairs, please reorganize them immediately."

Blaise rolled his eyes at Draco.

* * * * *

For lunch, Blaise and Weasley had settled into a comfortable routine. Blaise would instruct and Weasley would listen and follow orders. At least, to the best of his ability. As they followed this procedure, another trouble-free lunch was laid out. It was turkey sandwiches today.

Blaise noticed that Draco's hair was now only slightly blue as cut his sandwich up into delicate pieces with his knife. "So Weasley, I see you removed that growth on your face."

Weasley rolled his eyes and Pansy laughed, "Mr Wizard's Chess lost a game and lost a bet."

Blaise didn't care about others' appearances as much as Draco and Pansy. As long as he looked good, he was happy. But Weasley's beard had caused an unfamiliar stir within him; the need to comment on another's appearance. "Let it rest in peace, Weasley, it was for the best."

"At least I have hair, Zabini." spat Weasley.

Blaise's features darkened slightly. He possessed a sort of crew cut right now, but refused to go to Madame Pomfrey, who could probably grow all his hair out in an instant. There was an unspoken code of honour; he had to grow it out or fix it himself. "At least what's wrong with me can be fixed."

Draco backed him up, "There's nothing they can do about you, Weasley." he added in a mock-sympathetic tone.

Weasley washed down his sandwich with a glass of orange juice before replying, "Excuse me, but which one of us has a girlfriend right now? Let's place spot the difference."

Draco smiled, clearly welcoming the conflict, "Well, Weasel, they do say opposites attract. So it's nice that you found so funny, intelligent, cultured, generous and attractive." He smirked as Weasley's face darkened. "And in fact, I do have a girlfriend right now." Blaise noticed Pansy's breath tightening.

Weasley ignored the insult, "Oh who is it? Sally Imaginary?"

"Wrong again. My girlfriend and I don't feel the need to broadcast our relationship to the world. We're more mature than that." Draco stood up curtly whilst leering, "You have a think about that, Weasel. Anyway, Blaise, my man, we have some talking to do." Blaise was sure that a strange look had flitted across Pansy's features a few moments ago.

As Blaise was about to stand up, Granger pulled out of a piece of paper, "No one's going anywhere. We need to budget for this week, or we'll have no food tomorrow."

Blaise watched half-heartedly as Draco and Granger battled out the budget. He wasn't a leader, these things didn't interest him. He preferred to watch. To watch the determined gaze of Granger as she and Draco exchanged quips. To watch Pansy as she slipped out of her sharp witty state to a taciturn pensieve one. To watch Potter give Pansy a shy smile, trying to lift her out of her reverie. To watch Weasley look but not see.

In rare moments, Blaise would be decisive and lead. When Draco was too pig-headed or Pansy was too erratic. Now was not one of those moments. He preferred to follow the peaks and dips of others' lives rather than his own, injecting himself only when necessary. He was originally attracted to Draco's acquaintance since Draco had the highest peaks and steepest dips, almost as overreaching as his moods. He was then drawn into friendship after he and Draco realized each others' similarities: a thirst for mischief, an ear for gossip, carefully masked ideals, a keen eye for observation and the same wit and humour. However, Draco broadcasted those qualities whilst Blaise drew them inwards.

"Blaise… Let's go." suggested Draco.

Blaise looked up, completely unaware, "Done?"

"Done. Potty and Pans are shopping for us tomorrow."

"Cool." Blaise stood up and led Draco out of the dorm.

They didn't speak until they were well out of earshot of anyone else. "So how did you get the blue out of your hair?"

Draco muttered something noncommittal about Granger. He was probably embarrassed to be in debt to her. He cast a gaze up Blaise's face. "What is going on with _your _hair? Haven't you found anything?"

"No, I've tried heaps of potions, but they must've put something strange in there. Pansy said that she may have found something; she's helping me tonight. We have to get back at them for this, though. I want them to feel as humiliated as we did."

Draco smiled indulgently, "Oh I have a grand plan for humiliation later. But it'll take us a month and lots of stealth. For now… have you ever heard of the Third Acromantula?"

Blaise's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Draco leaned in, a bluish streak obscuring his left eye, "We'll need some Gryffindor Quidditch uniforms…"

* * * * *

For the "Grand Plan", Blaise had to sneak into Snape's private stores. Tonight, Draco had promised he would keep the coast clear on his Prefect duties.

Getting in there and getting the ingredients were easy enough, it was stealing away that was difficult. The dungeons were treacherously dark, especially at night when skulking around. Normally, Blaise enjoyed his nightly solitary expeditions, but this was another matter. Each noise sent Blaise hurtling into a classroom. Being discovered out after curfew was one thing. But being discovered out after curfew with Snape's contrabands was something else entirely.

Distant voices sent the hairs on Blaise's neck shooting up, and the increasing volume of them sent him shooting into Potions Room 5.

The male speaker possessed an arrogant tone and deep voice, which Blaise identified as Draco's. He reasoned that he would be with Pansy. Blaise pressed his palm on the handle, ready to open it.

"I don't want you to see Nott at Hogsmeade this weekend." Yes, it was Draco.

"Why?" The reticent reply was characteristic of Pansy.

"I don't trust him."

"Do you trust _me_?"

"Well – yes, but I don't trust him!"

"I've never done anything with Theo. Do you think I'm going to do anything with him now?"

"You should see the way he looks at you!" yelled Draco belligerently.

"He's a friend. A good friend at that. The fact that he's attractive is the only reason you care!"

"Don't you have enough friends? Go talk to Blaise… or Daphne or Bulstrode if you need to talk! And I don't care because he's attractive; I care because _you_ think he's attractive!"

Blaise could imagine Pansy rolling her eyes, "I can appreciate that he's good-looking, but I don't personally find him attractive! And who are you to tell me who can and can't be my friend?" her voice became increasingly exasperated. Blaise's grip on the doorhandle loosened.

"Because I'm your _boyfriend_!" Draco's voice was loud, as if he was right outside the door.

"You're making the word sound like the ugliest and most undesirable thing in the world." Pansy's voice was no longer exasperated, it was… it was just blank, indescribably blank.

"He's shady, Pans. He's really fucking shady!" Draco was still aggressive. He didn't seem to hear Pansy at all. His voice was getting softer as they walked away.

"_You're_ shady, Draco. You're the shadiest person I know. Who are you to throw stones?"

Blaise could no longer hear Draco as he replied.

He stood for a moment, in complete silence and darkness as he took in the passing conversation. It was very interesting. _People _were interesting.

* * * * *

Blaise sat in the bathroom with Pansy as she massaged an unlabeled lotion into his hair later that night. She was quiet, deep in concentration. He had expected her to be strident, livid, petulant, but she just sat there, her eyes unfocused, deep in reflection.

But Blaise allowed her to think. She would open up at her own accord when the time was right. She always broke the silence after ten minutes or so. Blaise cleared his mind and allowed the languid strokes of her fingers to massage his tired scalp.

Half an hour later, she stopped, "All done." She sounded chirpy.

Blaise looked up at her, surprised. "Oh, ok." He brushed his hand through his hair. It was now ear length and wavy again. "Thanks."

She stood up and grinned effervescently, "That's alright." He marveled at how effortlessly she could be two different people consecutively. She walked out.

Four words. That's all that she had said. He wondered if he should talk to her, or watch as things panned out. He decided to watch.

* * * * *

Blaise woke up the next morning not by the raucous that he was expecting, but by an itching sensation. He sat up, quickly, but his hair pulled him back. He frowned, winding a finger through his locks. They did not end where they normally did, rather, extending into farther territory that he had ever imagined. He pulled himself out of bed, feeling his brown hair fall around his knees.

Blaise grabbed his hair into a bunch and stormed off to the girl's dorm. He began to storm up the stairs, but he didn't get past the third step; the stairwell had turned into a slide.

He had forgotten about the charm.

Blaise yelled an expletive and began to hurl spell after spell at the door labeled "Witches". The first rays of morning light were breaking through the window and Blaise realized he had no hope. He stamped over to the work table and grabbed a pair of scissors, hacking off all the hair under his shoulders. He assembled the long strands into an envelope he found underneath the table and addressed it, in an almost perfect copy of Daphne Greengrass' script, to _Pansy Parkinson_ before attaching it to his owl, Orion.

He sat, fuming, for an hour. The sky was finally all blue. Deciding to do something constructive, he set about boiling eggs for breakfast.

As he began to pour the final cups of milk out, a high-pitched blood-curdling shriek broke out. There, there was the raucous. Weasley ran out of the dorm, an earsplitting yell, "There's spiders in there! Three of them!"

A small acromantula (about half a metre) scuttled out after him, clipping at his ankles. It was wearing a bright red Gryffindor Quidditch uniform, shrunken, with _02_ very visible. As Ron reached the bottom of the stairs, another acromantula scampered in front of him, halting his footsteps. This one had _04_ emblazoned on its back. Potter ran out, chased by a red darting _01._

Blaise smiled for the first time that day.

And as it turned out, his making of breakfast was all in vain. The household was too hysterical to do anything. Potter ran around trying to catch the surreptitious, sneaking acromantulas, looking for the elusive fourth one, whilst Weasley stood on the table, fervently glancing around him.

After half an hour, and nothing caught, Blaise found a moment of peace to question Pansy about his hair. He hoped that she could remedy the mistake.

"Oh, it's not a mistake." she replied.

"What?"

"Remember when I told you to remember the moment that you put me on toilet duty? Well, remember it now." she smiled.

Blaise bowed courteously to her, "Touché." He yanked at his hair, "Is this all the growing that it's going to do?"

"It'll stop growing when you've learnt your lesson." She offered a mysterious smile before directing her gaze to Potter, "Hey, Potter, it's almost nine. Let's get going to Hogsmeade before everyone else gets all the good stuff!"

"Hey!" called Blaise, watching Pansy walk to the door, "That's not an answer!"

She winked, "It is for me."

* * * * *

After dinner, the dormitory was completely empty, everyone off doing something or rather. Blaise decided to go for a walk. He followed the gentle puffs of air out towards the furthest courtyard, the last one before the path to Hagrid's.

Blaise turned the corner and saw Pansy laughing with someone whose face he could not identify in the dark. The broad shoulders were definitely that of a boy's. Maybe it was Nott. As Blaise skulked behind them, he paused with shock as he saw Potter's scar emerge from the dark. Potter looked up, his face now bathed in light, grinning at Pansy, who to Blaise's surprise, returned the look.

Blaise found himself a cosy spot and nestled in as he stayed to watch for a little longer, intrigued by Pansy's unfamiliar candidness.

He would move away softly after a while and return to the dorm. He would change into his pajamas, talk to Draco for a bit, play some wizard's chess, do some homework and then perhaps go to bed. But he would not recount what he saw. Because all in all, Blaise was a watcher.

* * *

Thanks everyone so so so so much for reviewing! It means a lot :). I value all of your comments and ideas.

So without further ado…

Please review!


	6. Hermione

**Eye of the Storm - Chapter Six**

_**The District Sleeps Alone Tonight: Hermione**_

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_Last time: Blaise and Draco set loose 3 acromantulas as revenge against Ron and Harry's hair trick. Draco and Pansy have a fight about her friendship with Nott. Pansy puts a potion in Blaise's hair to make it grow._

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Hermione laid in bed, covers tightly wound around her body, eyes open but seeing nothing in the darkness. She had been like this for the past two hours, unable to sleep but exceptionally tired. Thoughts rebounded around her head, colliding and breaking like waves crashing against a cliff face. Faces, peoples, fears… She was too conscious, too alert to sleep, but too tired to stay awake. "Pansy?" she ventured.

A moment of silence.

"What?" a voice retorts.

"Are you awake?"

"Obviously."

"Oh." Another moment of silence. Hermione scrutinized the canopy of her bed, almost able to see if forced her eyes open long enough to adjust. "Can't sleep either?"

"I guess." A light wind danced through the room, refreshing the stale air. "You sorted out that crap with Weasley yet?"

"No." admitted Hermione. She turned to face Pansy and propped her head up against her hand. "You going out with Malfoy?"

Pansy continued to look up, "I suppose." She frowned, "How do _you_ know about it?"

"I figured it out after he said he had a girlfriend the other day and you started wearing that giant ring."

"Cool."

"You don't seem to be very happy about it."

Pansy looked over to Hermione, turning her head slightly, an almost smile on her lips, "Are we really having this conversation, Granger?"

"Yes." replied Hermione defiantly. She was intrigued.

Pansy allowed a smile to spread across her face, "Go to sleep, Granger." She turned away.

Hermione collided back into bed. She tossed for a few more moments, still unable to allow sleep to take over.

"Close your eyes," came Pansy's hushed voice, "Clear your mind. Stop thinking."

Hermione closed her eyes tightly, loosening the grip around her sheets. She let the wind breathe across her arms, tickle her face.

As her last stretches of consciousness were about to leave, Hermione whispered, "Night, Pansy."

"Night." came the quiet reply.

Hermione fell asleep straight after that.

* * * * *

Hermione woke up as the first rays of sunlight crept across the room, they were her alarm. She pulled on her uniform and treaded past Pansy quietly to the door, creeping downstairs quietly.

To her surprise, Malfoy was already there, slicing a loaf of bread.

He glared at her, "You're late."

Hermione frowned, unprepared for the attack, "By a minute if at all!"

"I've been here for half an hour already."

"By no fault of mine, Malfoy." spat Hermione.

He shoved a carton of eggs to her, "Make some omelettes."

"Did your parents not teach you manners?"

"Did your parents not teach you to shut the fuck up?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him before standing perfectly still, watching him continue to slice the bread.

"Well do something, Granger."

"Not until you say it."

"Say what?" He sighed, "Your hair looks nice? It's not a giant frizzball? Your skin's really clear? You're charming? Any of the above? Coz if I did, I'd be lying."

Hermione gave him a dry smile, "Think. Use that small blonde head of yours and think really hard. I know it's difficult, just try."

He ignored her, having turned around to place pieces of bread on a pan. She still had not moved.

After a few moments, he shot an accusatory glare and moved to grab the carton of eggs beside her with his right hand, a plate in his left hand. "I have no idea what you want me to – AHH!" In a simultaneous swift movement, he had grabbed the eggs, singed his hand on the pan and dropped both the eggs and the plate.

"Fuck!" he screamed, shoving the pan on the floor in an act of rage. "That piece of shit burnt me!" Eggs, toast and shattered china were now strewn all over the floor.

A look of concern crept across Hermione's face. She bent down hastily, "Let me help you."

Malfoy blocked her with his arm, "No, you didn't help before. Don't need to do anything now, Granger." His tone was dripping with blame. He negligently gathered the pieces of glass, another expletive escaped as he cut his hand with a particularly sharp and jagged piece of the plate.

Hermione pulled him up roughly, "Sit. Over there." She directed him to the sofa. Hermione pulled her wand out of her robes and looked at it indecisively. They were only allowed to use magic in any area of the household three times a week. Was this the right time? She looked over at Malfoy, who was now punching his bloodied hand against the wall. Yes. Yes it was. She muttered a quick _scourgify_ before grabbing a bandage from under the sink and pulling him down onto the sofa beside her.

Wordlessly, she took his aubergine knuckles and crimson palm in her long fingers and inspected them intently, gently cleaning. Hermione took some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab and pressed it into his hand. She smiled slightly when he flinched. As she picked up the bandage, he stood up abruptly, "Can you make breakfast? Thanks." He left through the portrait without waiting for her response.

"Please."

After preparing a hasty breakfast with any ingredients she could find, Hermione left breakfast as soon as she could. It was difficult to see Ron so excruciatingly blissful, apart for moments of mutterings about acromantulas.

So, she went to Transfiguration, thirty minutes early. To her surprise, Lavender and Parvati were already there. Lavender glared at her darkly and Hermione averted her gaze to Parvati, who echoed Lavender's scowling features. Hermione still felt embarrassed. She did not know what had come over her those few afternoons ago. Hermione looked to the ground and shuffled to the front of the class quietly. She pulled out her textbook and decided to re-read the course content for the upcoming lesson. Hermione found that she could not concentrate, as Lavender and Parvati's voices drifted into her consciousness every few moments.

"I just don't know who to choose." came Parvati's voice. "They're both nice, but… I just don't know. Dean or Seamus."

"Well don't string them both along for too long. They might get _obsessive._" Lavender's voice carried much too far for a conversation between two. It was definitely aimed at Hermione.

"Oh yeah – they might start stalking me." Parvati's voice was vicious. Hermione felt her face grow hotter, and she was glad that she was facing away. She had no explanation for her actions; they filled her with shame. Yet she was not sure if she was ashamed at being caught, or being so… invested.

A few people walked in now: Theodore Nott, Lisa Turpin, Anthony Goldstein. But not together, of course.

"And sending freaky little curses when they spy on you from little corners." Hermione could almost not hear Lavender's voice above the chatter.

Malfoy walked in.

"And behind trees, of course." added Parvarti. Both girls cackled caustically.

It felt hot, too hot. Hermione stood up abruptly, shaking the desk. A feeling of morose misery had overtaken her. She needed to get out. She shoved absent-mindedly past Malfoy out the door, muttering a word of apology. He frowned and looked at the empty space she occupied for a full five seconds before snapping out of his daze.

* * * * *

Hermione reveled in the feeling of warm, soapy water around her in the Prefect's Bathroom as she allowed the gentle whirs of the water to soothe her. It was the one of the few luxuries she allowed herself. The fragrant bath salts infused into each air particle, and freed Hermione's mind from the agonizing Transfiguration class that she had forced herself to return to and sit through, the twists in her stomach she felt when she looked at Ron and the mysteriousness of Malfoy.

She allowed herself to sink underwater and enjoy the last few moments of the calming water before getting out. She wrapped a big, fluffy blue towel around her and began to walk over to the change room.

Suddenly, the large oak door swung open, and the sound of rushed, aggressive pants filled the room. Hermione jumped into the change room and looked through the small window in the door. Malfoy was furiously stripping off Pansy's clothes, devouring her body with irate kisses. He was now suckling her neck, collar and chest. Hermione looked on with morbid curiosity.

Pansy had a peculiarly detached emotion across her face. She seemed to be neither enjoying the situation nor disliking it.

He had now moved down to her hips. Hermione could see the very naked form of Pansy and the back of Malfoy's damp sweaty hair.

Malfoy ventured up again, motioning to kiss her on her lips, his arms wrapped tightly around her, her hands loosely resting on his waist. He pulled away without notice. Pansy frowned, "What?"

Malfoy buttoned up his top, "If you didn't want to, you didn't have to go along with it."

Pansy looked straight at him, wordless.

"You don't have to stand there, fucking speechless like you always do. You never talk about anything, you're so damn detached. You can talk to me."

She continued to look at him blankly. Her features were bare but here eyes were wild. It seemed thousands of thoughts came and went every second, all unspoken.

"Oh, that's right. You're the strong, silent type." Malfoy cast her one last look before walking out without looking back.

Pansy stood for a few minutes, completely nude. But she collected her clothes, snapping out of a reverie, exiting in a completely different direction than to Malfoy as far as Hermione could see

* * * * *

Hermione made sure to wake extra early the next morning, to not further aggravate Malfoy. She feared his anger and somewhat pitied his situation. When he came down, he seemed to be in a worse mood than the day before. That was confirmed when he began to cause a ruckus through haphazardly clinking and clanging the pots and pans passive aggressively.

Hermione moved to sit on the kitchen bench beside where he was standing. "What's wrong, Malfoy?"

"Nothing."

"Just talk about it, you'll feel better."

He ignored her.

Pansy's words echoed in her brain, "Malfoy, it's usually easier to talk to someone who doesn't know about the situation than to one who does."

He looked up at her, confused, "Why do you care?"

She changed Pansy's words around once again, "I'm sick of dealing with your bad mood, Malfoy. Let's talk about what's troubling you, or you snap into a good mood. Your choice."

Malfoy sighed, "Have you ever felt like you love someone… too much? And they just have no idea." He looked utterly helpless, so unlike his usual self.

"Don't even start me on that." Hermione offered a wry smile. She cast her mind back to last night – what she wasn't meant to see. Pansy was obviously uncomfortable with Malfoy. From Hermione's brief conversation with Pansy, she was sure that it was a result of their new relationship. "Sometimes if you love something, you have to set it free."

Both pondered the implications of Hermione's words for a few moments before answering, "Easier said than done."

A small smile was exchanged at their scarily identical choice of words.

"What about you and Weasley?" he

Hermione's face darkened, "What _about_ me and Ron?"

"Don't get so defensive, Granger. I've just noticed some unresolved tension recently." He slipped back into his normal self, taunting. "You Gryffindors are more interesting than you let on." A smile broke across his face as he cheekily asked, "So you gonna tell me about it?"

"No, I don't think so." Hermione turned away, laughing.

"Oh don't be such a tease, Granger. I told you what was going on with me!"

"You gave me one cryptic sentence, Malfoy."

"Well, I'm waiting for you to give me a cryptic sentence back so I can move on. It's not a free world we live in Granger, I give a little, and you give a little."

"You know – I thought it was a massive improvement this morning when you came down and you weren't your normal self. And now you're still not yourself; I think it's a downgrade. I definitely prefer quiet, angry Malfoy."

"Oh, so we're playing a new game now? Ok. Well, you've been quiet and moody for most of these past two weeks that we've been making breakfast. I thought the silence was nice at first, but you're just mopey and no fun. I prefer know-it-all Granger, because she'll argue with me."

She glared at him. "Fine. Girl likes boy. Boy doesn't like girl. Boy goes out with other girl. Good enough?"

He nodded, "That's acceptable", before turning back to the pan. "You could do better you know, Grangey."

Hermione raised her eyebrows questioningly at him.

"Oh, no, it's not a complement on your part, don't you worry. I just mean – next time, aim for someone in the same species."

Hermione shook her head with a disbelieving smile. "Thanks…"

The two finished making breakfast in an untouched, but comfortable silence.

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_AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed last week, they make me write faster (hint). :) _


	7. Crooked Teeth: Draco

Chapter Seven

_**Crooked Teeth**__**: Draco**_

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_Last time: Blaise and Draco set loose 3 acromantulas as revenge against Ron and Harry's hair trick. Draco and Pansy have a fight about her friendship with Nott. Pansy puts a potion in Blaise's hair to make it grow._

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"_'Cause I built you a home in my heart with rotten wood, it decayed from the start, 'cause you can't find nothing at all, if there was nothing there all along."_

Crooked Teeth - Death Cab for Cutie

_If you love something, set it free_. Those words had reverberated through Draco's consciousness for the better part of the past few days. He looked at Pansy across the courtyard, a smile breaking across her face at something Daphne had said.

He realized that she would never tell him what he wanted to know. She would never dare to reveal her cards. Draco had shown her his momentarily when he let down his pretense of nonchalance for the first time the other night in the Prefect's Bathroom. And now he felt a strange persisting feeling that he shouldn't have revealed so much, and another feeling that made him recoil at the thought of ever attempting to tell Pansy anything like that again.

And right then, he decided that he would do it. He would set her free. And he would feel better. Draco rarely did anything if it wasn't for his enjoyment, satisfaction or to improve his state of mind. One his earliest childhood memories was tending to his mother when she had a severe case of dragon fever. He did so not to ease her suffering, but out of fear that he would no longer have someone to coddle, coo over and comfort him.

Draco sauntered up to her with a smirk, "Daphne, do you mind if I steal Pansy away from you?"

She smiled flirtatiously back, "Oh, of course not. Go ahead."

Pansy offered a stiff smile and took his hand automatically, allowing him to lead her away. They hadn't talked much in the past few days. Hell, he had talked more to Granger.

Normally, when Draco broke up with his girlfriends, he had carefully planned excuses, revolving around his personal development, school, family, Quidditch. _It's not you, it's me. I have to concentrate on school; I spend so much time thinking about you my grades are dropping. I'm breaking up with you because I'm not good for you; I need to work myself out first. _ But he had no idea what to say to Pansy. Reaching a deserted corridor, he pulled her to one side.

His mind was still blank, uncertain. No elaborate speech. So he just said it, "Pansy, let's break up." He looked straight into her eyes, "It just doesn't… it doesn't…" he faltered, "It doesn't feel right."

She held her face in her hands and tiptoed to kiss his forehead, "Thankyou." And then she walked away.

* * * * *

When Draco arrived in the kitchen the next morning, Granger was already there, "Morning."

"Morning." he echoed.

"How are you?" she asked. It was a genuine question, like she really wanted to know the answer. It wasn't the kind you say to the person who serves you at the Three Broomsticks, or at Zonko's.

"Better than yesterday."

"That's good to hear."

A moment passed before Draco reciprocated the question, "How are you?"

"Pretty crap." she admitted.

"People are shit. They let you down."

Both stood in silence for a moment before Hermione instructed, "We're having cereal and yogurt today."

"…Yeah, those fuckers don't deserve our effort." He smirked.

"Well I wouldn't put it quite so eloquently, but sure. Here," She handed him the carton of milk and six bowls, "Set them up."

After setting down three bowls, Draco looked over, "I set her free."

"And how do you feel about it?" she ventured.

Draco was sure that if it was anyone else he would have bitten their head off and told them to mind their own business. But Granger was different; she was so unassuming, without judgment. It was unexpected, especially from her. "Bad and good. It's right but it's wrong."

"Don't worry, it's natural. But in six months, you'll be laughing about it."

"Six months? That's a long time for me too brood, Granger." he joked.

"Six days. Whatever pleases you."

"Well what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Set anything free lately?"

"Trying to." she shrugged as she placed the yogurt and cereal on the table.

An idea filled Draco's mind; something exciting, fun, a new project. Another thing to occupy his time. He leaned in secretively, "I'll help you get over him."

Granger raised her eyebrows, "What?"

"It took me one day to take your advice. And now I feel better. It's been two weeks since we've come back to school and you're still morose. You obviously need help."

"Oh, I obviously need help?"

"Ignore your pride for a moment. I'm sure plenty of nerdy Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are after you, you just have to open your eyes. You're like a walking naughty librarian fantasy."

She snorted, "You're kidding."

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Is this why you're doing this? Because it'll be fun?"

"No. Well, yes. That and I can't wait to see Weasley's incredulous face when he realizes you're not waiting for him. He's parading his new relationship around, he's completely insensitive."

"Is breakfast ready?" Weasley had started coming down the stairs, a yawn breaking across his face, his hair disgustingly erratic.

"Speak of the devil." Draco smirked, "Think about it. Get back to me." He clapped a hand over his mouth and pointed behind Weasley, "It's the last acromantula!" Weasley yelped and sprinted over to where Draco and Granger were standing.

For once, Granger didn't offer any consolation concerning the spider, although Draco was sure she knew there was only three. In fact, he was pretty sure everyone else in the dorm knew that the prank _was_ the imaginary fourth acromantula, not the other three. But Weasley's hairs were still standing on end, and he still forced Potter to check every room for him before he walked in.

"Where?" he screeched, looking furiously behind him.

Malfoy shrugged, "It scuttled across there." He swept his hand across the room in a concerned gesture, "But I think it ran off into a closet somewhere."

Granger bit her lip, "Oh no, Malfoy, that's really not good." She looked worried, "That's where they look for mates and have babies. In closets."

"I heard that acromantulas can breed with themselves, they usually just like to have a mate for company." He winked at her as Weasley shot a nervous glance to the broom closet.

Hermione nodded judiciously, "Yeah, I've heard that too. I hope we don't get an infestation or anything."

* * * * *

It was after dinner. Pansy was visiting Daphne, Weasley and Potter were probably coming back from Quidditch training and Granger was in the library. In other words, the common room was empty.

"Are you sure this will work?" questioned Blaise. "It seems a bit weak."

"But if it works, it'll be brilliant. And anyway, I've been researching this for the whole summer. I was planning to use it on Crabbe and Goyle, but they're too inept to do this justice."

Draco extracted a book from his cloak and shuffled it among the notes on the work desk. Hidden, but obvious enough. _Tried and Tested Transfiguration Tips for the Terrible Student. _"And anyway, Potter's weakest subject is transfiguration. He won't be able to resist this."

"How did you find all these spells anyway?"

"Well, over the summer, my father gave me the keys to the family library and told me to learn spells. I found a particular incantation that would reverse all the effects onto the caster. It's meant to be a defensive spell. Your opponent thinks you're about to cast a spell on them, but you're putting a shielding charm on yourself or something."

"Genius." nodded Blaise in admiration. "So what's this going to do to Potter?"

"I've stuck a few gems in there, I'll tell you that much, but the fun's in the anticipation, Blaise my man."

"You're an insufferable twat."

Draco smirked, "So I've been told… Anyway, I must head off. But Operation 5.6 tomorrow?"

"Yep. Where are you going?"

"Places."

"Fine…Cya."

Draco walked briskly, with purpose as he usually did. His mind switched off and he allowed his legs to lead him to his favourite place in the school: the Quidditch pitch.

He sat right on top of the Quidditch stands, his legs dangling over the edge, his eyes absorbing the playful shades of light and dark that danced over the Dark Forest. At times like these, so far above the ground, so far from another human being, he felt almost inconsequential. It was thrilling.

Draco felt a flurry of movement behind him and discreetly grasped for his wand. He glanced across and relaxed his grip. It was Pansy.

She slid in beside him. "How did I know you'd be here."

He shrugged a reply, continuing to view the landscape.

It seemed an eternity passed before either of them spoke.

It was Pansy that broke the truce of silence. "We're too alike."

"I know."

"It would've never worked." She was emotionless.

So was he. "It was a nice fantasy."

They talked as if it was a casual conversation about acquaintances. Aloof, indifferent, unconcerned.

"Yes. Yes it was." Pansy hesitated. She was reaching for something, "But you don't want me. Not really." Her façade slipped an inkling, "You're lonely. No – don't try and deny it. But I know what you want. I know what kind of girl you want."

"Oh really? Tell me about this girl."

"Someone who will comfort you, love you. You want someone different to you, yet intrinsically alike. You want to look in her eyes, and find something there, something no one else sees, a clandestine world for the two of you. Just like when Lucius looks at Narcissa." Pansy shook her head, "But that's just not me. Love is such a far reach."

"You may have everyone else believing that, but you don't trick me, Pansy." His eyes flitted at her stoic expression for a moment, "You care about me. Not in that way, but you care. You care about Daphne. You care about Blaise. You care about your mother, and your father. You care about your friends. I know you hate this place, you're scared of heights. Have been since you fell from my mulberry tree when we were seven. But yet you came here. You thought that you'd hurt me, so you came to try and make me feel better. Because you care about your friends."

An unfamiliar expression fluttered across Pansy's face. "I'll admit to that last part, but love is still stupid."

"It makes fools of us all."

"You're my best friend, Draco Malfoy. You have been since we were five. And I still want you to be. "

He wrapped his arms around her, "I know. So do I." And so they sat there, late into the night, lost in their own thoughts, captured in a platonic embrace.

* * * * *

Saturday morning had begun as most mornings now did: with Granger in the kitchen. Both had learnt to make food faster and more efficiently, but still met each morning at 6.

It was now 6.20 and they had finished preparing toast, eggs and bacon. It was another forty minutes before anyone was due downstairs. Actually, probably up to another two hours considering it was the weekend. Draco and Granger sat beside each other on the kitchentop.

"Yes." conceded Granger.

"What?"

"I was thinking about it last night. I _do_ want to get over him. And then you this morning, you seem much happier, much better."

"Good, good. We'll plan something." He fidgeted with the folds of his shirt. "We talked last night." For some reason, he felt like revealing this to Granger. It seemed like she actually cared. And well, he wanted her to know.

"You and Pansy?"

"Yeah."

"About what?"

"How it would never have worked out. And she's right. And then she told me about the girl that I supposedly want."

"Oh, who is it?"

"It's not a person exactly. It's the type of girl I want. Apparently, I want her to be just like me, but inherently different." He didn't know why he told Granger this. He supposed that he just wanted a second opinion, he had never really thought about what kind of girl he wanted. But now he said it, he felt strangely vulnerable. He laughed it off, "Stupid, eh?"

She cocked her head at him, looking intently for a moment, "I don't think so. I can see you with someone the opposite of you." Her expression lightened, "You need someone to keep that giant ego in check. And someone cultured. And smart. You know, to balance you out."

"Very funny, Granger."

"No, but seriously. Opposites attract. But they don't necessarily stay together. I think everyone needs someone different but the same. Opposite to attract, similar to stay together. But you need to have the same values, hopes, dreams…" Granger blushed and stopped abruptly.

Draco supposed that she felt embarrassed at revealing too much. But he didn't mind. It was nice having someone open like a book. That was the great thing about Granger, he didn't have to act around her or pretend to be someone else. They both knew the worst of each other, so anything else was an improvement. He recoiled. He didn't even realize that he had internally acknowledged there was a great thing about Granger. She had things about her, not good things, not great things. But he didn't mind. Granger was becoming a friend. "And who do you want? What kind of same but different boy?"

Blaise trodded loudly down the stairs, "Morning." he grinned, before grabbing a slice of toast and foraging for the weekly money rations.

"Zabini, you know we don't need food until Sunday right?" stated Hermione.

"But today _is_ Sunday." he winked.

"Is this another prank?" she grinned.

Blaise shook his head innocently, "Oh of course not."

"Do whatever you want, I just don't want to become collateral damage."

Draco grinned, "So are you neutral?"

"Yeah, neutral, but I'll be a spy for the evil side if need be." she joked.

"Hey, who says we're the evil side?"

Granger raised an eyebrow, "Who say's you're _not_?"

"Touché." admitted Draco.

"Anyway, I'm off. Have a lovely morning you two." Blaise waved goodbye, "Gotta beat the Sunday rush."

Draco turned back to Granger, "So what were we talking about?"

Granger slid off the benchtop, attempting the end the conversation, "I have no idea."

"You're a terrible actress."

"Hey, I resent that. And I honestly don't remember."

"I'll get it out of you soon enough."

"Whatever." she poked her tongue out.

"Fine, let's get to Operation Rebound."

Granger wrinkled her nose, "Operation Rebound?"

"Look, professionals, like me, like to use codenames. They sometimes confuse novices through, don't worry."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

"You're just spiteful because you're in over your head. So since I'm a seasoned expert, I'll take that in stride." he grinned, "Anyway, we need to get you a boy that will threaten Weasley, but is within your reach…Anyone you could take a fancy to?"

She shrugged, "I haven't really thought about it."

"Ernie Macmillian?"

"He's so pompous!"

"Well, he's a prefect. Nice status."

"No. Next?"

"Fine, fine. Ravenclaw. Michael Corner?"

"No, he's so rude!"

"Someone from Gryffindor?"

"No. Ew."

"Terry Boot?"

"Even I find him a bore."

"Finch-Fletchley?"

"Pretty sure he's not a fan of Harry, Ron or me."

"Yeah I don't blame him… Anthony Goldstein?"

"…" Hermione pondered for a moment.

"Yes?"

"Maybe…" she let out slowly.

"Good enough. I don't want to sit here all day debating the sub par bachelors of Hogwarts."

"Oh everyone's up to par, Malfoy. It's just you that brings that average right down."

"See, we're already getting the old Granger back. Snarky and annoying. Better than mopey and lovestruck."

She shot him a deadpan glare.

"So anyway, do you have any classes with him?"

"Yeah, potions."

"Interesting…"

"So no advice?" interrogated Hermione.

"Just give me time to work my magic, neophyte. We'll get revenge on rude Weaselbee soon enough.

* * * * *

"Operation 5.6." nodded Blaise in pride, leaning back in his chair. "Our best ever."

"Five years, six revisions, countless first years." reminisced Draco, beaming with satisfaction.

Both leaned forward to write to pen a letter they had created countless times before:

_Dear Sir,_

_You have recently come to the attention of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a possible future Auror. We would like to ask you to perform certain tasks for us to test your suitability. However, these are just procedures, and we are in no doubt that you will excel. _

_Please make note to not inform anyone of the contents of this letter, as it is not only a rare occurrence, but a secret process. We rarely ask wizards that have not completed school, and you are certainly the youngest, but we are confident of your potential, even at this early stage. It is imperative that you learn secrecy. You must understand that if you divulge the details of the journey you will embark on, should you accept the offer, you will be blacklisted in the eyes of the Ministry, which makes a job, in ten, twenty, fifty years, near impossible. _

_Please reply with your acceptance or decline of our offer, to Lot 121 at the Diagon Alley Owlery to be rerouted to us. _

_Regards,_

_The Committee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Division_

The slid the letter gently into an envelope reading, "_HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL: RONALD WEASLEY."_

_

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_

Thanks for reading!

Review please


	8. Paper Aeroplane: Harry

Chapter Eight

_**Paper Aeroplane: Harry**_

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_Last time: Draco breaks up with Pansy, who thanks him. He and Hermione bond over rejection, and Draco decides to help her get over Ron. With Blaise, he sets into motion a prank on Ron and a prank on Harry._

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_"I spilled the ink across the page trying to spell your name  
So I fold it up and I flick it out  
Paper aeroplane  
It wont fly the seven seas to you  
Cause it didnt leave my room  
But it awaits the hands of someone else  
The garbage man"_

Paper Aeroplane - Angus and Julia Stone_  
_

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After a fitful sleep, Harry woke at 4.30 in the morning. Unable to find a comfortable position in bed, he decided to head to the pitch for a fly to clear his mind.

As he approached, Harry saw a small figure zipping around the pitch, engaging in a rapid succession of dips and peaks, pulling up and down. He kicked off on his broom and glided behind the Gryffindor Quidditch tower to watch from a distance.

It was Malfoy. His blonde head hurtled rapidly to the ground before attempting to pull up at the last moment, and failed to do so, sending him crashing into the ground. Malfoy continued to do this a number of times, unable to perfect the Wronski Feint, colliding into the grass each time. He was holding too much tension in his neck and back.

After fifteen minutes and seeing no improvement, Harry emerged from behind the tower. He didn't know what he was doing, but he knew he felt sorry for Malfoy, "It's difficult, isn't it?" he yelled.

Malfoy's head whipped around and his eyes narrowed, "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough." Harry called back, "If you release the tension in your body and loosen your grip right before you reach the ground it'll just be a smooth movement."

Giving Harry a suspicious look, Malfoy wordlessly glided up above him. Without a moment's notice, he began to hurtle to the ground. Harry was impressed at how fast he could transition from relatively stationary to full speed. In the path downwards, Malfoy was noticeably less tense. He plummeted down, gaining more speed as he went. Harry tensed, anticipating another collision with the grass.

3…2…

But there was no 1, Malfoy pulled up at the last moment and zoomed up once again to lap the field. He slowed down as he approached Harry. "Thanks." he muttered sheepishly, "I have to go make breakfast now. But… see you later."

"No worries. Yeah, see you later." Harry smiled. "You better make a good one."

He frowned. Did he just make civil conversation with Malfoy and help him? How curious.

Later, Harry found himself sitting at the breakfast table arguing with Ron. Well, it wasn't exactly an argument. But it wasn't a discussion either. It was something that fell between. Regardless, that was normal. What wasn't normal was that Malfoy was on his side. It was a discuss-ument about the Chudley Cannons. More specifically, it was about how much they failed as a team.

"So they've had a bought of bad luck, but they're recovering!" spluttered Ron as he munched on a piece of toast, slathered with cream cheese.

Malfoy looked incredulously at him, "Oh you mean they're now ranked second last instead of last?"

Harry backed him up, "Ron, they haven't seen the flip side of a World Cup qualifying round since 1960s."

Abruptly, the slamming of a door tore through the room.

"Sorry, heavy hand." muttered Zabini. He looked to Malfoy, "By the way, your thing failed."

"Give it a week, man."

"Weak is what it is, Draco."

"Oh ha ha. Great pun."

As Malfoy and Zabini continued their cryptic conversation, Harry looked over at Pansy, who was eating her porridge with indifference. Her eyes sprung up a few moments later to meet his gaze whilst her lips quirked into a fleeting smile before returning to her porridge. Harry marveled at the curve of her lips, the subdued wildness in her eyes. He returned the smile effortlessly. How strange an occurrence this would have been a mere month ago, when they had moved in.

But he and Pansy had become friends as of late, albeit secret ones. It was an unspoken agreement between the two; reclusiveness was a natural assumption for both of them. Their friendship had only really begun a week or so before, after Pansy had fought with Malfoy about Nott. Harry had come across her whilst strolling in the courtyard. She had sat on a bench, face awash with moonlight, emotions unreadable. He had silently settled in beside her, speaking slowly at first, excruciatingly drawing conversation out of her. That night, he had heard her real laugh for the first time; it was enveloping and contagious.

And now, every time he looked at her, his stomach danced a little jig. Harry had no idea what was happening. Curiouser and curiouser.

* * * * *

After a full breakfast, Harry headed to the library to start his transfiguration homework, which was due on Monday. He had avoided it because it was too difficult to comprehend, too intricate to begin. As a result, he had to carefully steer clear of any conversation with Hermione concerning homework. As he walked down the stairs between the fourth and third floor, Ginny sidled in beside him, "Hey." she said cheerfully.

"Hi," smiled Harry, "I haven't seen you in ages, how are you?"

Ginny beamed, "I'm good. What've you been up to?"

"Just adjusting to the new living quarters I guess."

She was hanging off his every word. "Mmm, the Slytherins must be pretty bad."

"Well," Harry pondered for a moment. They weren't really that terrible, "They were bad to start with, but they're getting better." He was thinking of mostly Pansy when he said that.

"Oh. Interesting. I would've thought that there would be a huge rivalry with Malfoy and all… But you know, not that I've been thinking about it much. Just a passing thought." Ginny blushed.

"Yeah, he's a git, but today we were actually on the same side against Ron." chucked Harry.

"Why?"

"We were talking about the Chudley Cannons."

"Enough said." laughed Ginny.

Without realizing, they had arrived at the doors of the library. Harry gave a little wave, "Well I have to go borrow a book now, see you later. Have to work on Transfiguration. It's my worst subject."

"Oh… um…" a strange moment passed as Ginny decided whether to bid him farewell or coincidently also need to go to the library. She decided on the latter, "Bye. Good luck."

* * * * *

Harry had spent almost the equivalent of a full school day in the library, and he had only made a small chip in his homework. Feeling like a complete failure, Harry decided to talk a walk around the school to get some fresh air, and maybe run into Pansy. It was never really a run-in though; he had figured out that she liked to hang around the north courtyard, so he generally walked near there.

Harry's heart thumped as he walked up, feeling strangely nervous. He found himself subconsciously patting his unruly hair down.

A warm feeling enveloped him when he saw the familiar lone figure. "Hey."

"Hey stranger." she smirked, "Let me guess; transfiguration too hard and Harry Potter too stupid?"

Harry took a seat beside her. "You have so little faith in me. I could've finished the homework for all you know." He teased.

"Get used to it Potter, I don't have very much faith in anyone." Pansy smirked lightly.

"You should have faith in me." smiled Harry.

"Why? Because you've saved the wizarding world four – no – five times?"

Harry would've coiled up in modesty with anyone else, but he merely grinned at Pansy, puffing his chest in mock arrogance, "That, _and_ I'm a very trustworthy person."

"Is that right? Never let me down Potter, and I'll have faith in you."

"Alright."

Pansy cocked her head, "Ok, I'll take approach with faith in it. Potty, you've done your homework like a good little boy, haven't you?"

"No." he admitted.

"See I was right." teased Pansy. She leaned back and lay on the grass.

Harry mirrored her action and reclined.

Harry turned his head to the right to look at Pansy. She was facing up and her eyes were closed. He looked up at the navy night sky.

Seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours as Harry lay there, consciously aware of his proximity to Pansy whilst feeling his heart beat louder and louder. He wondered if it would pop out of he continued to lie like this. He wondered if she could hear it hammering against his chest. He wondered if he should talk.

He turned words around and around in his head as he decided what to say. He settled on, "Tell me about yourself, Pansy Parkinson." After all, it was something he wanted to know.

Her eyes snapped open, "Um," she paused, "What do you want to know?"

"All the big important stuff." She froze. Harry thought he could almost see her barriers coming up, "You know, stuff like your favourite ice cream flavour."

She breathed out quietly, "Mint."

"Mine's hazelnut. What's your er… favourite season?"

"Your questions are stupid." grinned Pansy, "But for the record, autumn. What's yours?"

"Winter. Fine, you ask some better ones."

"I will. What's been the most awkward moment of your life?"

Harry racked his mind, his cheeks growing red when he thought of the Ron in his bed thing a few weeks ago. "Um… I'm not sure you want to know."

"If I asked it I want to know. Spill."

"Ok. Well, I don't know what happened. But a few weeks ago… I went to bed by myself… And I woke up with…"

"Spit it out." Pansy had a knowing smile on her face.

"I woke up with… Ron."

Pansy shook with silent laughter, "Yeah I heard you guys got pretty intimate."

Harry opened his mouth in shock, "You _know_ about that?"

"Yeah Blaise and Draco told me. But don't worry, I'm totally fine with experimenting."

"No, we weren't experimenting! I just woke up and he was there!"

She nudged him playfully, "Yeah sure, sure."

Harry inched his hand closer to Pansy's until they were almost touching. He could feel the heat radiating off, "What's your biggest fear?"

"If I told you I'd have to kill you."

"Well then you don't get to know mine."

"Too bad I already know, Potty." she leered, turning her head to face him, her features stoic.

"What is it then?"

"Me." she giggled.

The truth was, she_did_ scare him. He didn't know why, but when he was around her, there was always the sense that he was walking on eggshells. It felt like he wasn't meant to be there, forbidden territory. "What's been the scariest moment of your life?"

"Right now."

What's been the best moment of your life?"

"Right now."

Harry laughed, "What's so scary and what's so great about right now?"

Pansy sat up, drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Everything." Her voice was somber, tone indistinct.

Harry had thought that Pansy was joking, being merely evasive as she always was, but for a moment, he was uncertain. He sat up beside her and met her gaze.

Harry's eyes inspecting Pansy's, drinking in every speck and detail like a dying man clutching to his last sliver of life. He cocked his head slightly, leaning in. He could feel her breath on him. She was still like a statue, but her eyes were turbulent. A far off bell sounded.

"Its curfew, we have to go." As quickly as it came, the moment dissipated in touch with her voice.

He and Pansy walked back in an amicable silence, as Harry was left with a sense of something lost. But he knew he felt something there. Something was burgeoning, about to come into fruition.

* * * * *

For Harry, Sunday morning had begun exactly like Saturday morning. The promise of a new day was destroyed, as his mind flooded with the burden of his transfiguration homework a few moments later.

The reaches of the sun had not quite coloured the whole dorm yet, and Harry realized that it was the early cusps of dawn. Unable to fall back asleep again, he headed downstairs to start the inevitable.

After working for four solid hours and having managed to make his flask squeal, he took a well deserved break. His mind was blank as his legs led him to the northern courtyard. Harry walked around for about fifteen minutes, but it was as empty as ever. He then headed up the nearest stairs without thinking. Like the courtyard, it was also deserted. Harry continued walking, figuring that it had to lead him _somewhere._

As Harry rounded the corner, he heard muffled pants and moans a second too late to step back. The voices stopped abruptly, faces turned to look at the intruder.

Harry's eyes met Nott's rat-like ones before traveling down to his menacingly bared teeth. Past tangled sinewy limbs, beneath the drapery of Nott's body and through carmine cheeks lay Pansy Parkinson, her dead eyes boring into Harry's.

"Fuck off, Potter." leered Nott.

Harry doubled back without skipping a beat, but Pansy's gaze was emblazoned within his mind. Her eyes… they were so dull. His heart pounded in his ear as he realized his previous assumption was wrong. Pansy did not like him in that way.

Harry returned to the dorm at breakneck speed and sat himself down, trying to concentrate on his homework. But all he thought of were their interlaced limbs.

As Harry shuffled through his parchments and the small dormitory library, he found a little booklet with, "_Tried and Tested Transfiguration Tips for the Terrible Student"_. He flicked through the pages covered with elaborate sketches and step by step instructions. It was impressive. He flicked to the page covering the transfiguration of inanimate objects to animals. That was his homework this week. He had read all the books in the library pertaining to this subject, but there was something he kept getting wrong. Maybe it was the incantation, maybe it was his arm movement. Maybe Hermione would know, but Harry really didn't want a long lecture as a prequel.

He frowned at the incantation that the book offered, it wasn't what McGonagall had taught them. But Harry was desperate. He picked his wand up and muttered the spell, following the intricate twisting wand movements.

However, Harry saw no change in the flask in front of him. Rather, he felt warmness before a squeezing feeling, much like the sensation of talking polyjuice potion. A moment later, the constricting feeling stopped, and he heard his wand clatter to the ground beside him. Harry looked down at his own hands, but they weren't his hands. They were furry, brown and small. They were paws! Harry jumped up, and realized how much larger everything was. He tried to call out to Ron and Hermione, but only a succession of squeaks escaped.

Harry heard thumping and looked furiously around him, craning his neck. It was Zabini. He staggered over to him, trying to make as much noise as possible. It was difficult, Harry had never walked on all fours before.

Zabini picked Harry up, slowly looking between Harry and the table before yelling out loudly, "Draco, I found an otter. Wondering if that has anything to do with you!"

Harry saw a blonde head a few moments later. "It's a rabid otter!" Harry head Malfoy call, "Drop it, Zabini."

Zabini dropped Harry to the ground and suddenly, Harry felt himself levitating above the ground, before being released and raised up again. He was being bounced! He was being bounced by Draco Malfoy!

Harry called out in protest, but once again, a series of squeaks escaped.

A cacophony of laughter passed before Harry felt a chilling sensation and the feeling of being stretched beyond his means.

Seeing his normal hands again, Harry shot a glare at Zabini and Malfoy, attempted to stifle their laughter. It didn't work.

Malfoy was now doubled over, tears in his eyes, "Oh Potter, you make such a believable otter!"

"Very funny. Well since you two are _so_ great at transfiguration, I've decided that you two can help me do my homework."

"Why should we help you?" asked Zabini, eyebrows raised.

"Nah." silenced Malfoy, "He gave us a good laugh, it's the least we can do. After all, it can be my good deed for the day. Helping out a brainless dolt."

Harry took the insult in stride. He really did need help. Malfoy usually hovered between second and third in transfiguration, with Zabini at sixth maybe? They would be a good team. And Harry preferred insults to lectures, so it seemed to be a win-win situation. "Well pull up a seat then."

Harry was noticeably quieter as he prepared dinner later that evening, the elation at completing the spell still unable to conquer the disillusion he felt with Pansy. He had barely spoken more than a brief greeting to her. She seemed aware of the awkwardness, but did nothing to remedy it.

However, halfway through waiting for the chicken to roast, it seemed that she had tired of the silence. "Potter, just because you saw me half naked doesn't mean anything's changed." she offered with a smile. It was a typical Pansy smile; slightly teasing, endearing yet detached and never quite reaching her eyes.

Harry supposed he was making a mountain out of a molehill, but it didn't feel like anything had changed, it felt like _everything_ had changed. He shrugged and covered up with a lie, "Nah, it's not that, I'm just having a bad day today."

"Oh." She looked happier, "Wanna tell me why?"

Harry could not think of a particular reason why he was having a bad day, except for one reason, which, of course, he couldn't say, "Woke up on the wrong side of bed today, I guess."

"I heard you turned yourself into an otter."

"I didn't turn myself into an otter. Malfoy made me turn into a otter."

"I think he calls it something different… poetic justice." Pansy waited for Harry's laughter, which did not come.

A minute or so passed whilst Pansy looked searchingly at Harry.

"So are you and Nott together?" he asked.

She frowned, "No. What you saw… it didn't mean anything." She seemed like she was explaining herself.

"Why'd you do it then?"

Pansy looked at him for a long moment, "I don't know." He felt everything rush back.

Harry didn't know what came over him as he blurted, "Don't you think we'd be good together?"

She looked away, continuing to roast with her wand. "No."

"Why not?"

"Relationships don't work." she answered stonily.

"I like you." He studied Pansy for a moment, "And I think you like me too."

"Relationships are stupid."

"What's so bad about relationships?"

" Everything...They're like warpaths, they ruin everything in their wake."

"You spout off all this stuff about being in a relationship, but how many have you even been in?"

"I've seen enough to know." she replied. She slid her wand back into her robes, "It's cooked."

Harry ignored their task and focused completely on her, "Have a little faith in me, Pansy." His eyes pleaded.

"I'm sorry…Harry." The way she said his name was forceful and gentle, biting and lulling, foreign and familiar at the same time. "Maybe another time, another place. Another you and another me."

Their eyes met for a lingering moment before she grabbed some plates and turned away.

He felt a strange warming sensation and the same squeezing feeling from before. Everything grew in comparison to Harry. He looked down at his hands-turned-paws. He shrugged. Or at least as much as an otter could shrug. It was good timing for wanted exit. However, this opened a whole new can of issues. Why was the spell working when it hadn't been cast?

Thoughts of Pansy left momentarily as he scuttled up the stairs to find Malfoy and Zabini and bite whichever one he came upon first.

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READ AND REVIEW PLEASE


	9. Good Times Gonna Come: Blaise

Chapter Nine

_**Good Times Gonna Come**__**: Blaise**_

_**Thanks so much to everyone who's been reviewing! **_

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_Last time: Harry helps Draco master the Wronski Feint, which leads him and Blaise to help Harry with Transfiguration after they play a prank on him, causing him to turn into an otter. Harry and Pansy are friends, but he begins to feel a strong attraction to her, which culminates in him asking her to be in a relationship with him, to which she denies. _

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"_See me then, investing so much, in you, in you, in you, came so close to the edge, I do."_

Good Times Gonna Come - Aqualung

For the second time in a while, Blaise felt bored. There were things to do, people to see, homework to complete, but none of it led anywhere. Each banal day seemed to form a succession of the prosaic rather than a path leading to something else. Most of the time, he conquered this feeling by riding on others' momentum when there was none of his own. He would be Draco's wingman in a conquest, Nott's accomplice in a dirty deed or Daphne's partner in crime. But it seemed harder to latch on; everyone else was orbiting in their own universes and building bridges between other islands. He inspected the wooden ceiling above him, taking in the smooth varnish and deep colour.

A punch to his arm drew his attention. "What are you moping around for Blaise?" came Draco's drawl.

Blaise sat up, "I'm not moping. I'm philosophizing; considering the implications of life. Intelligent things that would put your small brain in a spin trying to comprehend." He looked at Draco and noticed that he was soaking wet, with only a towel around his waist.

"Well how about you start to consider the implications of your gorilla hair clogging up the drains. Frankly, it's – ow!" Draco looked down to his leg and Blaise's gaze followed. There was some kind of rodent thing at his feet. "Ahhh! It bit me! It bit me!" Draco kicked the thing as far as he could across the room. "It stings! I feel faint. It infected me with its diseases!"

The thing came scuttling back at an incredible speed, teeth gnashing. It was disgusting.

Draco jumped onto Blaise's bed and pulled Blaise up with him. "Do something!" he yelled, grabbing Blaise's arm.

"What?" asked Blaise incredulously shaking off Draco's hand, "You're already bitten and infected, don't drag me into this!"

Draco looked around frantically for a moment before letting go of his clutch on Blaise, jumping to the floor and sprinting out the room, all in one swift movement, yelling out "Granger!" as he went.

Blaise looked at the floor around him, there seemed to be no signs of the thing. He jumped down to the ground with a thud. Suddenly, rustling was heard and the small rodent was at his feet. It bit determinedly into his foot, like it had Draco's. He yelled in pain, and with a mix of horror, awe and disgust, saw it turn into Potter before his eyes.

"What the hell?" yelled Blaise.

Harry got up unceremoniously, "It's called revenge!"

"That's pathetic."

"Well what was I supposed to do? Can't really do much when you're a foot tall."

Blaise clutched onto Potter's ear and pulled him down the stairs to the Common Room. There was Draco sitting on the kitchen bench with his pant leg pulled up and Granger pressing some ice to it. "It's Potter." he called to Draco.

"Oh great. _He's_ probably got more diseases than a rodent!"

Granger looked confused as she glanced between them, "What's going on?"

"Yes, what _is_ going on?" Potter slapped Blaise's hand off, "Let go of my ear!"

Granger raised her eyebrows judiciously.

"They gave me some spell that made me turn myself into an otter." began Potter, "And now without casting the spell, before, I turn into an otter randomly."

"What?" Draco looked shocked and proud at the same time, "Well, that's a side effect I didn't know about."

"Malfoy!" scolded Granger as she slapped his arm. Blaise noticed that it was neither overtly playful nor scathingly vicious. He filed that away for later.

"Hermione, help me." pleaded Potter.

She sighed, "What's the spell?"

Potter directed her to the booklet.

As Granger sat down and flipped through the book, Blaise examined her intently. There was something different about her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He saw her lip reflect the light as she turned to talk to Potter.

That was it. She had makeup on. Her lashes looked a little thicker, her complexion more even and her lips redder. Her cheeks were rosy, but not from blush. Interesting.

A flurry of movement drew his attention away. Where Potter sat was now an otter.

Draco's lips quirked in amusement whilst Granger furrowed her eyebrows in concern. Blaise caught a quick gaze between the pair and noticed a smile tickle the corners of Granger's lips. A frustration overcame Blaise before he knew what was happening. He had no idea what was going on; everything was hazy, and for the first time in a while, he didn't understand the cause and consequence of the actions around him. He hated that feeling. "I'll leave you two to fix it." he muttered as he stood up, walking to the door.

"Who says we need to fix it?" laughed Draco. "I think Potter's lovely as an otter.

Blaise returned a quick smile and stalked away.

A knock came the moment before Blaise pulled the door open. He found Weasley's little sister standing outside. Her mouth opened in shock, obviously not expecting Blaise to open the door so hastily.

"Can I help you?" he asked. Blaise never saw the merit in being rude to Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as Draco, Pansy and their friends did, but he was never particularly conversational either.

She took him in before responding, "Yes, I'm looking for Harry. Um Harry Potter."

The girl was easy enough on the eyes, "Thanks for clarifying; I would've gotten confused as to which Harry you were looking for."

She faltered for a moment before laughing, "Well is he in?"

"No, sorry." he answered as he slipped past her to shut the portrait and enter the corridor. Better to lie than to explain the strange truth.

"I'm Ginny, by the way."

"I'm Blaise. Um Blaise Zabini." he offered, with the slightest smile. He had returned her words along with a small upturn of his lips that was almost unnoticeable, "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Blaise Zabini." Ginny grinned and walked away, the clack of her shoes still resonating long after she was around the corner and out of sight.

* * * * *

"Babies," came Professor Bane's voice. Everyone's gaze snapped up at her. "I know you've all thought about it. Little children who will look like you, talk like you, act like you. What will you call them? Will you spoil them, or is it tough love for your future little one?

"For all of you, this moment is coming sooner than expected. The Ministry deals with an unbelievable amount of issues involving parents and children every year. Our goal is to help you become better parents if and when that time comes. In pairs, you will be given a sort of child to look after, which will hopefully allow you to practice acceptance parenting techniques.

"You may have noticed a plastic bag on your seats. Please pluck a single hair from your head and seal it in the bag. The exact details of this assignment will be revealed later, when everything's… ready. After you hand your hair in, you may leave. Thankyou."

Blaise pulled a hair from his head, placed it delicately inside the bag, deposited it in the front of the classroom and walked briskly out.

"Blaise!" called Draco, catching up with him in the corridor.

"Yeah?"

"What's been going on with you, you're all weird today."

Blaise didn't know what was going on either. How to explain a bout of unexpected fuck life syndrome? "Nothing's going on."

"…Alright." Draco seemed disbelieving.

Blaise decided to change the subject, "What's up?"

"I've got a new project. It should be interesting. You game?"

Things seemed to be about to fall into place; a plan to a path would be leading somewhere. "Does it involve blackmail, philandering or destroying someone's life?" Blaise grinned.

"None of the above." Draco shook his head in mock disappointment, "You losing your touch?" he laughed.

"I think _you're_ losing your touch, Draco. Your three signatures and none of them are in this new project. What's happening?"

"Touché. But we're embarking in a new direction."

"Oh really?" Blaise raised his eyebrows. "One day Malfoy, you'll make a great president of a company. You've got all the bullshit language for it."

"And you'll be my faithful vice president."

"Of course. You'll be the figurehead and I'll be the brains behind the whole operation."

"And a good enough vice to make me think I thought of all those ideas myself." Draco smiled, "But, back to business. The plan: we're going to get Granger to date Anthony Goldstein - "

"I knew something was up when she was wearing makeup this morning!" Blaise grinned as if he had answered the most difficult question in one of Snape's test and gotten full marks, "So is this to destroy Goldstein?"

"No."

"Weasley?"

"No. Maybe."

Blaise frowned, "…Granger?"

"Definitely not!" Draco was a little too quick and forceful in his reply.

Blaise frowned intuitively, "Definitely not? So what are we _definitely _doing, 'cause I hate being aimless."

Draco stammered for a few moments, "Er… well… we _are _destroying… umm."

"Spit it out."

"It's to help Granger and maybe hurt Weasley at the same time." It came out like a question.

"Draco Malfoy doesn't know what he's doing." Suddenly, there was clarity. All those strange glances between Draco and Granger, the laughing, the banter – it all made sense. "A new direction indeed."

"What are you suggesting?" Quickly, he shifted to defensive.

Blaise was calm, reassuring, "I'm merely suggesting that Dumbledore's plan seems to be working. Gryffindors and Slytherins. Friends." Inside he smirked. Whether Draco knew it or not, there was definitely an undercurrent to his and Granger's 'friendship'.

And there it was. Biting like an icy wind, fresh like after it's just rained, and sudden like the first crack of thunder. Momentum. Building to full force.

"We're not friends." came Draco's reply, "She's just annoying the hell out of me every morning because she's so melancholic and… dreary."

"Well, have you laid the groundwork for Goldstein?"

"They have potions together. So I've gotten her to wear shorter skirts and look like she puts in a moment of effort into her appearance, but I don't have much more advice than to go from there. Well, nothing that Granger will listen to anyway."

"Let me guess, you told her to shag him."

Draco beamed, "Close. I told her to shag him _and_ go from there."

"Wow. Great advice. Why wouldn't she take it?"

"Well, I guess that's why my longest relationship lasted what? A week? Which is where you come in."

"Malfoy, why do you think I can help? I've never dated. I don't date."

"There's got to be some nuggets of gold in that big old head of yours. You know, with the philosophizing and considering the implications of life. And even if you don't date, I'm sure there's a Casanova hidden in there." mocked Draco.

"It would be hidden _very_ deep." conceded Blaise. "So deep and so well hidden I don't know where it is."

Draco laughed, "Well, find your inner charmer and help out with this?"

"I'll try my best. I'll talk to her after dinner or something, yeah?"

"Sounds good. Any updates on Operation Auror?"

Blaise guffawed, "So, a couple of days ago I sent him a letter saying that he would have to practice his observation skills by monitoring everyone around him and that we'd assess him based on the detail of these observations."

"Does Weasley pass or fail?"

Blaise pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from the breast pocket inside his robe. The top corner was torn off, and it looked like someone had spilt food right in the middle of it.

_Ronald Weasley Saturday Observations_

_**Breakfast: **__Toast with cream cheese and jam_

_H Potter (HP) – discussion with R Weasley (RW) about Chudley Cannons (on negative side)_

_D Malfoy (DM) – aided HP in discussion (suspicious)_

_B Zabini (BZ) – conversed in suspicious code with DM (suspicious)_

_P Parkinson (PP) – no comment_

_H Granger (HG) – did not speak (much?)_

_**Lunch: **__roast beef sandwiches – slightly flavourless _

_HP – did not show up (Hogsmeade?)_

_DM – not present (suspicious activity)_

_BZ – present but not speaking (suspicious activity)_

_HG – reading at the table _

_PP – ?_

_**Dinner: **__warm roasted chicken_

_HP- late (what is he doing?)_

_DM – in a discussion with BZ + HP + PP (strange)_

_BZ – see above_

_HG – not speaking much (why?)_

_PP – see above_

"Well, that's underwhelming." murmured Draco. "Did he even try? Everyone's just 'suspicious'."

Blaise shrugged, "I really hope he didn't try, because if he did, wow, this is weak."

"You would think he'd do a little investigating or something."

"Maybe he is. Maybe he's listening… right… now." laughed Blaise.

Draco took the sheet of paper from Blaise, "So me and you, we're always strange and suspicious. Potter and Pansy appear to be completely non-existent. And Granger is not speaking. Doesn't he realize that she's upset?"

Blaise batted his eyelashes jokingly at Draco, "Sorry we're not all as sensitive as you Drakey-Poo."

"Shut up. I'm just helping a… an acquaintance. And it's for me, not her, 'cause I don't want to deal with her shit anymore. You notice if someone's upset when they mope every morning."

"Or if you care."

"So _anyway_," he stressed the 'anyway', "what's next for Weasel?"

"No idea yet. You have a think about it while I think about Granger's situation."

Draco smiled, "Lovely doing business with you Mr Zabini."

"Et toi aussi." smirked Blaise.

* * * * *

Typical. She was in the library.

Blaise swooped in behind Granger, "Hey there."

She jumped in shock, "You scared me!"

"Well, that was the point." He sat down next to her. "What are you reading?"

She reluctantly replied, "Candide."

Blaise gave a small smiled, "I've wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but I still love life. That ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of our most precious inclinations - "

"- What could be more stupid than to persist in carrying a burden that we constantly want to cast off, to hold our existence in horror, yet cling to it nonetheless, to fondle the serpent that devours us, until it has eaten our heart?" finished Hermione with a wide grin. "How do you know Voltaire?"

"I'm very surprising, Granger." He elicited an enigmatic smirk, "I'm a living, breathing, walking and talking example of how you should never judge a book by his cover. Anyway, the real reason I'm here is to help you."

She frowned, "Sorry?"

"Draco told me about your little situation."

"Oh, lovely." Her tone indicated that she felt the complete opposite.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm here to help."

"Help?" The word rolled around in her mouth, as if she was tasting a fine wine.

"Yes. Well, first thing's first, have you talked to Goldstein yet?"

"No – yes. Well, kind of. Not really." she shrugged.

"Alright, we have to remedy that. Draco told me you two have potions together."

"Yeah we do."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"You should ask him to help you." he stated simply.

"With potions?" she asked incredulously "Not to sound egotistical, but I'm topping the class."

Blaise frowned, "Well what else are you going to do? Go up to him and say, 'Hey, I'm the best at potions, you seem like you could use a little bit of a boost – want me to help?'? Of course not! You need to give him an in."

Hermione considered his words, "Fine, but what do I say?"

"First you bump into him or drop something at his feet. Then you'll comment on the difficulty of potions. Ask him how he's going. And finally, you suggest a study group of some sort. And there you go, a date in three steps."

She breathed out heavily, "All right. I think I can do that."

"Good, good. Get back to me in a few days." Blaise winked and disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived.

* * * * *

Casual conversation had begun to fill the breakfast table. Blaise was talking to Granger, who was also talking to Draco, who was also talking to Pansy, who was also talking to Potter, who was also talking to Weasley. It was not particularly lively or freely flowing conversation. It was slightly cautious, but with a willingness to venture out.

The careful conversation was disturbed as an owl flew elegantly in with six pamphlets tied to its leg. Everyone took a pamphlet and began to read, frowning at the title, "All About Pod-Babies!"

_The Ministry of Magic is in the final stages of the development of Pod-Babies, a revolutionary new creation. With a special potion, babies are created from a cauldron. These babies take 1-3 weeks to reach full maturity at toddler size. As they mature, these babies turn green and less mobile. They will require dirt to sleep in and only water and sunshine for sustenance. In other words, the Pod-Babies will turn into plants. They are currently undergoing testing and the Ministry is exploring the possible uses for Pod-Babies._

"Wow." breathed Blaise, after reading the pamphlet. "Are these things our 'babies'?"

Hermione bit her lip, "I think so."

"Weird." admitted Ron.

The moment of awe dissipated with the first touches of the returning conversation.

As Blaise left to go to class after breakfast, he bumped into Ginny halfway down the corridor. "Ginny Weasley, are you looking for Harry Potter?" he asked playfully.

She gave a coy smile, "No, trying to get to Astronomy, actually, Blaise Zabini. Not that it's any of your business."

"It became my business when you stopped paying attention to where you're going and crashed into me." She looked nice today; cheeks rosy, hair windswept.

"Hey, I was watching! Not my fault you're absent-mindedly shuffling along."

"I don't shuffle, Miss Weasley. I only walk elegantly."

"Of course."

"We upperclassmen have very important things to do, so see you round." he winked.

* * *

Review please and tell me what you think. Was this chapter too boring/jumpy? It helps me heaps!

Thanks for reading. :)


	10. Tightrope: Ron

Chapter Ten

_**Tightrope**__**: Ron**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**Last time:**__ Zabini and Malfoy made Harry unconsciously turn himself into an otter through a renegade spell, but plot also to help Hermione get Goldstein to make Ron jealous. Ron continued with his Auror task, which is headed by the 'Ministry officials' Blaise and Draco. The group found out that they have to look after children as part of a task._

_**

* * *

**_

_Wishing never solved a problem, if you wanna get it big time, go ahead and get it big time_

Tightrope – Yeasayer

_**

* * *

**_

_Dear Mr Weasley,_

_Your observation log has been excellent, and we believe that it is time for you to progress to the next step: deep cover. Deep cover is an integral part of every Auror's job, as it can sometimes be the best and only way to acquire sensitive information. We would like you to assume the role of a woman named Natalia Hyde to befriend Draco Malfoy. The Malfoy family has been under surveillance recently, and we think that your role could be vital in securing what we need._

_For the first part of your assignment, we would like you to experiment to find a disguise that you are comfortable with. In normal procedure, you would be transfigured by a Ministry Agent, but we want to test out your resourcefulness. _

_The deep cover work will occur over the Christmas break, when we have attained confirmation of young Mr Malfoy's movements. We will leave the rest to you and send you exactly what information is necessary when your documentation is forwarded at a later stage._

_Just a hint, it's usually best to test your disguise on your friends first._

_Regards,_

_The Committee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Division_

Ron held the cream coloured letter in his hand and had to resist jumping in the air and whooping. He remained seated on his bed, back to the door. Ron scanned the letter again and mentally stumbled over the part of '_Natalia Hyde'_ as he wondered how to disguise himself as a woman. Muffled footsteps sounded from beyond the door and he crinkled the letter roughly in his hand and shoved it into the bottom of his book bag.

He grinned as his gaze passed over the two remaining beds in the room. Yes, two, not four. Ron hoped it would be Zabini and Malfoy coming in; he really wanted to see their faces when they saw their missing beds. The door swung open with a whoosh and the two Slytherins did not fail to satisfy, their faces a contortion of confusion and rage.

Malfoy spoke first, as usual, "Where the fuck are our beds, Weasley?"

Ron shrugged, feigning innocence, "I dunno. They were gone when I came in after dinner."

"Where. Are. They?" Malfoy annunciated each syllable clearly, dangerously.

"Give it up, Weasley." sneered Zabini.

"You two," joked Ron, as if they were close friends, "Always so careless, leaving your things around and forgetting where you left them." He waggled his index finger at them condescendingly.

Malfoy's face darkened, "I'm serious Weasel, if you want to live to see tomorrow morning, tell us where our beds are. I'm tired and I don't want to deal with your unfunny pathetic attempt at a prank."

It was obvious that he hated being bested by someone else. Ron smiled, "I have no idea what you're talking about, but try to think of the last place you saw it? Go back? It's probably still there."

"Yeah, I think I'm starting to remember." said Malfoy, pulling out his wand.

"I don't think so. If you're casting offensive spells, and I'm casting defensive spells, then that will register, and we'll get marks docked for the course. We wouldn't want that would we?"

Malfoy walked right up to Ron, whilst Zabini remained in the same spot, "One spell is all I need."

They were face to face now, eyes set against each other, "Whatever you do to me in one spell won't be as bad as what Hermione does to you when she finds out that you're risking her NEWTs."

Malfoy faltered for a moment and put his wand back into his cloak after a decisive moment. He turned back to Zabini, "No matter," A playful smirk had displayed itself on Malfoy's face frighteningly fast, "Weasley just wants to play a little game with us."

"And we'll win." added Zabini, always laconic.

"I hope you realize what game you've started, Weasel, because I have to admit that I'm a very sore loser." His words were deadly and delicate.

Ron couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at the hypocrisy, "I think you started the game while ago, you know, with the acromantulas and stuff? And turning Harry into an otter. You two've had a few turns and it's my go now." Ron put on a sympathetic face, "And I do hope you find your beds and don't have to sleep on the cold floor all night."

"Thanks for the concern." said Zabini sarcastically. He sent Ron a menacing glare before leaving the room with Malfoy.

That night, Ron went to bed smiling due to the absence of two particular Slytherins, who still had not come back. The next morning, he and Harry had a good laugh as they saw Zabini sprawled out on the couch whilst Malfoy was cooking breakfast with Hermione, both looking decidedly exhausted. So apparently the two villains had not returned victorious from their quest.

Ron escaped the frequent glares as quickly as he could by swallowing his breakfast in record time and going to find Lavender. Ten minutes later, he decided that it was a terrible idea. Ron found himself bored, distracted and sick of Lavender. Quirks and features that he did not notice of her from before now sent him to the brink of irritation, from her high pitched laugh to the way she pronounced certain words.

She took Ron's hand in hers. "Ron Ron, do you want to come and stay for a while during Christmas break?"

Unfiltered one hundred percent Lavender time? Ron's mind raced with an excuse, "Um… won't your parents mind?"

"Oh no, I talked to Mummy about it, she said that it's fine. She really wants to meet you." Her smile was expectant and excited but he could not bring himself to return it.

Ron gulped, "Yeah, I just have to check with my mum first." His hands felt sweaty.

Lavender face fell a little, "If she says no, I can probably stay at yours, right?"

Ron attempted to mutter a noncommittal reply. It sounded like _yeah_ but it was really a maybe.

"She's let Hermione stay over before. I don't see why she wouldn't let me. And I'd just miss you so much!" She latched herself onto his arm.

"Yeah, I just have to run things by her, I'll owl her later. I'd… um… yeah I'd miss you too." He seemed to say it out of obligation more than anything else, but she didn't notice.

Ron had really been hoping for a Lavender-free Christmas. He needed a break and had hoped that Christmas would be the non-intrusive solution. Naturally occurring, and no need to upset anyone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a head of wavy brown hair. "Lav, hun, I have to go, I need to go ask Hermione some questions about a Potions test, and she just went by."

She narrowed her eyes, "Fine." and gave him a rough peck on the cheek.

He rushed off, yelling, "'Mione!" as he went. Ron did need to ask Hermione a question, but it wasn't really important enough to warrant leaving mid-conversation to run after her, but Lavender didn't need to know that.

From behind her, Ron observed that Hermione's legs looked much longer that he had remembered them. Or was it her skirt that was much shorter? She stopped and turned around, recognizing the voice, "Hey Ron."

As Ron jogged up to her, he noticed that she looked different. He couldn't really pinpoint exactly what she had changed, but she looked good. _Really_ good. "Hey…" He continued gazing at her, not knowing what to say.

She frowned, "Are you alright?"

Ron attempted to shrug nonchalantly, "Of course. Yeah. I'm fine. Just wondering, for our potions test, do we need to know all nine uses of boomslang skin, or just a few?"

"You chased after me to ask that?"

"Yes… And I'm trying to get away from Lavender." _She's pissing the shit out of me. _He made a face.

She turned and started to walk off, with him falling in step immediately, "Oh, trouble in paradise?"

"She's just so intense. She wants me to be with her all the time and I can't be!"

"That must be annoying."

"…Yeah, it is." Ron admitted. "Everything's gone all pear shaped."

Hermione stopped at the end of the corridor, "Well I do hope you sort things out with her." She blinked thick dark lashes at Ron before smiling, "I have to go now, see you round."

His eyes trailed down her chest. One more button and he'd be able to see everything. "What've you got to do?"

"Things." she smirked mysteriously before turning around.

As Hermione walked away, Ron stood for a moment to ogle her, something he had never done before.

She glanced back for a moment, "And yes, you do need to know all nine uses of boomslang skin. Snape is extremely pedantic. And stop gaping. It's unseemly."

Was she just flirting with him? Ron looked flabbergasted for a moment and smiled as he walked off. Had he ever checked her out before? It seemed natural to do it just then, why hadn't he before? Subconsciously, Ron smiled as nodded approvingly. He liked this new Hermione. But now, it was to the library to research spells of disguise.

A few hours later, Ron had discovered a potion to grow his hair, a spell to change its colour and another spell to change his eye colour. But nothing to substantially change his appearance. Ron sighed, he had no idea how Hermione did all this continuous research at the library. At that moment, books weren't really treasure troves of information, more like nuggets of crap. He slammed _Beauty Spells for Beginners_ shut and pulled his book bag onto his shoulder in one movement. It then only took Ron a minute to escape the library. His stomach grumbled in anticipation for lunch.

He saw a familiar black-haired figured speed-walking in front of him, "Oi, Harry!" yelled Ron.

The figured turned around and waved furiously for Ron to catch up, "I'm late. Pansy'll be so mad!"

Ron caught up and walked quickly alongside Harry, "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be fine. You just better make something good. I'm so hungry."

"When are you not hungry?" grinned Harry.

"It coincides with the same time a blue moon occurs."

Harry laughed, and then concentrated on walking. Their conversation was filled with huffs for the next few minutes.

"By the way Harry," puffed Ron, "have you seen Hermione lately?"

"…Yeah?" Harry was confused.

"Well?"

"Well what?" gasped Harry.

"Blimey, she's looking good. Really good."

Harry made a face, "She's like my sister! Keep your pervy thoughts to yourself, Weasley… Things cooling down with Lav Lav?" he teased.

"You have no idea. She's just so into me-"

"Must be terrible." cut off Harry sarcastically.

Ron shot him a deadpan look, "Like you don't have your massive share of admirers."

Harry clapped a hand to Ron's shoulder as he slowed down slightly, "You have no idea how lucky you are that the girl you like likes you back. And is _really really _into you. Don't mess it up."

Ron frowned. Were he and Harry in the same conversation? He didn't bother to delve into whatever was bothering Harry, "Thing is, I don't think I like her anymore."

"So you're gonna try go with 'Mione?" They sped up again.

Ron panted, "I dunno. Maybe. What do you think?"

"Whatever happens, don't put me in the middle of it. Not like all of your other rows. Promise?"

"Promise." The two boys spat into their palms and shook hands, finding themselves outside their common room.

* * * * *

As Ron entered Potions the next day, he craned his neck to look for Hermione to sit next to. His eye caught her mousy brown hair, but the seat next to her was already filled by Anthony Goldstein. The next hour or so consisted of Ron attempting to glance casually back at them, noting each look that passed between the pair. After class, as he waited for her with Harry, Ron noticed that they were talking, quite animatedly in fact. Ron felt someone grab his hand, and looked up to see Lavender. "Oh, hey."

She responded with an enveloping hug, and a loud, "Won Won!"

Over her shoulder, Ron looked at Harry, daring him to laugh, who smothered his laugh with a cough before saying, "I've got to go… away from here." Harry left promptly with a small stumble in his step. Lavender gently pulled Ron away as he continually glanced back at Hermione and Goldstein, who were still having their conversation. Ron had a bad feeling about Goldstein.

Lavender stopped and narrowed her eyes, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Out of the corner of his eye, Ron noticed Hermione leaving the room with Goldstein. In an instinctual reaction, he pulled Lavender close, wrapping his arms around her lecherously whilst commencing a lascivious carnal kiss, hardly appropriate for the middle of the corridor. He peeked for a moment with his left eye, and internally smiled with satisfaction after noting Hermione's look of disgust. Ron was sure there was a hint of jealously in there was well. Momentary contentment blotted out the strange, uneasy feeling Ron felt about seeing Hermione with Goldstein.

* * * * *

Ron caught up to Hermione later when they were returning to their dorm. "What were you doing talking to Goldstein?"

"Excuse me?" questioned Hermione in an outraged tone.

"You heard me." replied Ron brusquely.

"I didn't know that I had to explain myself to you concerning everything that I do. I know you certainly don't run _your_ lewd actions by me first." Hermione's lips were pursed in a caustic manner. "And anyway, Tony and I are friends."

Ron made a face - a strange combination of _oh really?_, _screw you_ and _you bitch_, "Oh so it's Tony now, is it?"

"Yeah it is. And if you don't mind, I have to go have a shower now. Bye." Hermione trod up the stairs only after shooting Ron a vitriolic glower.

* * * * *

Days passed slowly, but abruptly turned into weeks. It didn't help that Ron's stream of consciousness was consistently occupied by two people and one thing: Hermione, Lavender and the Auror project. Lavender - he was constantly trying to avoid, Hermione - he was constantly trying to pin down and the project, well, his hard work was paying off, as he was nearing a completed disguise.

Lavender was droning on again, with Ron nodding every now and then whilst making quiet noises of agreement. Silent rage filled him as he thought of Goldstein's sleazy moves on Hermione – his touching of her lower back, leaning in close every time they talked and casually wrapping his arm around her like he owned her. Ron remembered catching them snogging a few days ago and using all his self control not to punch him. The only redeeming factor was that when Ron asked Hermione about Goldstein, she said that they were 'merely having fun'. He had never taken her to be the kind of girl that would just 'have fun' with a boy. Ron had imagined a ring, elaborate wedding and half a honeymoon before any fun was to be had with Hermione. Lavender gripped his arm tightly for a moment, "Ron, are you listening?"

He looked at her, halfway in a daze, "Yeah, of course."

"Then what did I just say?" She stuck her lower lip out in a pout.

Ron didn't know, and in all honesty, he didn't care either. And at that moment, he decided that he had had enough. Everything had been building up lately, and it was getting worse every day. "Maybe we need a break." The words erupted out of him without pause.

"What?" she exploded, releasing his arm immediately, "What did you just say?"

Ron stuttered, "Um… Er… I said that we… I think… It's probably for the best… let's go on a break." However, it came out more like a serious of hiccoughs and then _letsgobreak_. His strong disposition was only momentary.

Tears sprung to Lavender's eyes as her demeanor immediately changed, "How dare you break up with me! Who do you think you are?"

Ron wished that he had Harry's invisibility cloak, or that he could just disappear. He had no idea what to do. "Look, Lav," Ron reached out to touch her arm awkwardly, "I've been thinking about this for a while." Lavender flinched at his touch.

She looked up at him accusingly, "You've been thinking all this stuff about our relationship and you haven't told me? We're supposed to tell each other everything!" The 'everything' pierced Ron's ears.

"Maybe we should explore other options?" he asked, unsure of where to tread. Tears were falling freely down her face and her nose was running.

She coiled up; wrong step, evidently. "Oh, I'll give you other options." With a smooth _slap_, Lavender left Ron sitting by himself with a red mark on his cheek.

However, the stinging sensation of his cheek was overwhelmed by that of relief coursing through his body. He was free. Ron Weasley was a free man. And he would spend every extra moment that he gained back to complete the Auror task.

And so he did. Three days, twenty seven spellbooks, five hours of practice and nine spells later, Ron's hair, eyes, nose, cheeks, jaw and complexion had changed. Sleek long dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders framed Ron's unblemished skin, long tapered nose and vivid blue eyes. He winked at himself in the mirror. If Ron was himself, he'd probably hit on the girl smiling back at him in the mirror.

Unexpectedly, before Ron could react, the door of Myrtle's bathroom had clicked open and shut back, revealing Harry. Ron wasn't sure if he should run out or hide in one of the cubicles. He decided to stay and test out the new disguise.

"Hello there!" came Ron's voice in a put on high voice. He gave a wave that was, in his opinion, both demure and seductive.

Harry frowned for a long moment, confusion written all over his face.

"You may not know me," continued Ron. Yes, the disguise was working. Harry had no idea who he was, "But-"

"I do know you." said Harry, with a look of severe bewilderment.

"Really?" Ron's high voice peaked in a shrill squeak and faltered.

"Ron, what are you doing?"

"You know it's me?" His voice slipped back to its normal range.

"Of course I do. Your hair's brown and longer and your face kinda looks puffy, but yeah, you look exactly the same. Why are you wearing girl's clothes? What are you doing?"

Ron looked down. Ok, to be honest, the red dress wrapped around him did look like a man wearing a dress, but he was planning to stuff his bra (when he knew how to wear one) later, and he thought his face looked different.

"You know what," said Harry, stepping back subconsciously, "I don't think I want to know. If you're…" His face flinched slightly, "experimenting, that's fine. It kinda figures after the… the bed stuff a while back. But don't-"

Ron couldn't tell Harry about the Auror thing, could he? But Harry was Harry _the-boy-who-fucking-lived_ Potter! If anyone could know about this, he could. But something in Ron knew that he shouldn't tell Harry the truth, no matter how much easier the situation would be. It wouldn't be worth it if the Ministry found out. Ron threw his arms up in exasperation and cut in before Harry's crazy speculation could continue. "Look, I'm not experimenting… none of that stuff. I just have to do something. And I can't tell you what it is. But just trust me. It's a thing."

"Ok." Harry sounded unconvinced, "Just… whatever you're doing, don't include me, don't tell me about it, don't ever talk to me in that voice again. Because that's weird. And this is weird. And I'm not equipped to deal with this… this… whatever this is. But you're my best friend. So I'm going to overlook that. And ignore." Ron noticed that Harry looked directly at him, not daring to let his eyes drift down, "And we're going to pretend like this never happened. And go on with our lives."

Ron was too embarrassed and shocked to say anything. An "Ok." was all he could muster. As Harry turned away swiftly, Ron called out, "Trust me alright, I'm the same Ron. This is just a thing that I have to do."

Harry poked his head back in the door after leaving, "Ok. I get it. Just… I'll see you later."

Ron buried his head in his hands. No, Harry didn't get it. And this had become more disastrous than ever. One miscalculated step forward and now it was an imaginable number of steps backwards and in strange directions. He sat down on the damp floor and rested his head against the wall, allowing himself to wallow in his own failure for a while. He thought about the task, he thought about Lavender and he thought about Hermione. Some time later, a surge of motivation filled him, and Ron decided to complete this Auror thing and do it well. Then, he'd be able to tell Harry and sort everything out. But before that, tonight, there was something that he had to do.

* * * * *

For the first and probably only time in his life, Ron was looking forward to prefect patrols. All through dinner he was jittery in anticipation, and coupled with the external factors of Harry, Zabini and Malfoy, to say it was an awkward affair would be to use a euphemism. Harry wouldn't look him properly in the eyes, and Zabini and Malfoy looked too frequently, their gazes still vehement from not being able to locate their beds.

When the curfew bell tolled, Ron almost jumped up in eagerness. He didn't speak for a while after he and Hermione began patrols, the clacking of their shoes echoing through the corridors the only noise, apart from the whispers of the younger years trying to avoid being caught out late. Ron gave Hermione a look that said, _live and let live. _She gave a smiled back as they remembered their days as the night fugitives of Hogwarts. After a while though, the weight on Ron's chest seemed to be increasing. "Hermione…" was all he managed.

"Ron." echoed Hermione, mocking him.

"There's something I want to say." His voice was strange and foreign in his own throat.

"Mmm?" asked Hermione, peering at him through the corning of her eye.

He paused, unable to form a coherent sentence in his mind. "You know what? Actions speak louder than words." And with that, he stopped, grabbed Hermione's face in his hands and kissed her. She pulled away after a moment, shock in her eyes, "… I didn't know you felt that way."

"Well I do." he reassured her. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in, pressing her mouth to his, opening her lips gently. He responded by pulled her in tighter and kissing back furiously. "By the way, I don't want this to be 'just fun'" added Ron.

Hermione tugged the hair at the nape of his neck playfully between two fingers, "Never."

They continued their fevered kisses for an indeterminable amount of time after Ron pushed them into a discreet nook near the common room, pulling apart only when a quiet voice whispered, "Mummy?" The noise was elicited from a small blonde baby boy crawling on all fours with chipmunk teeth and a greenish tinge to his skin. So, the Pod-Babies were ready.

* * *

_**AN: Thanks everyone for reviewing so far, and please please please keep on reviewing! :) Constructive criticism is awesome.  
**_

_**For every**__**one that's been wondering why Pansy is the way she is, it will be revealed next chapter.**_


	11. Skinny Love: Draco Pt 1

Chapter Eleven

_**Skinny Love: Draco (Pt 1)  
**_

_**tayaboo72 –**__ yes for now, but who says that it won't change soon? :)_

_**FearMeDearForIAmDeath**__**– **__Nice observation skills - yep, and thanks! _

_**iPodMint –**__ Some angst now, but definitely romance later._

_**ThinkI'mFallingForYou**__**– **__Yeah, I always find that the Ron ones always take me the longest to write coz I don't really like him._

_**happydays345 – **__yes, but it'll take some time I'm thinking. :P_

_**Rose Eleanor Schultz – **__Yeah it is and thanks so much!_

_**yellow 14 - **__ :D_

_**Book and Music Lover**__ – No, I don't have a beta, I don't really know where to find one. Would you happen to be able to tell me where I used the abbreviations, because I must be subconsciously using them, and that's not good. :S. Thanks_

_AN: And thanks so much again! It's nice to know what you guys appreciate and what you don't like._

_

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**By the way, the time frame doesn't always go straight, it'll sometimes start from a time already gone by in the previous chapter/s, because certain characters have simultaneous things happening but have nothing to do with each other, aka now with Ron and Draco's plots. **

* * *

_**Previously**__: Draco and Hermione plot to make Ron jealous, which happens to coincide with his troubles with Lavender, leading to their breakup. Blaise and Draco's latest prank on Ron involves him dressing in drag and going undercover. Christmas is coming._

_**

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**_

_Who will love you?_

_Who will fight?_

_Who will fall far behind?_

Skinny Love – Bon Iver

* * *

Though both Draco and Granger had now perfected their cooking routine to a tee, they still came promptly down at the crack of dawn each morning, allowing more than enough time for cooking. Perhaps it was habit, perhaps it was something else.

"So Blaise actually gave me some good advice." said Granger, sitting on the kitchen bench top, casually leaning back.

Draco was standing next to her, "Blaise's advice is never as good as mine, but let's hear it."

"He told me to ask Anthony help me with Potions - actually talk to him. You know, like normal people do?" said Granger, with a hint of smile. "Instead of a mindless shag."

Draco turned to face her, and leaned in, right into her personal space. He could smell the fruity scent of her shampoo whilst she breathed in the scent of his cologne, "There's nothing in the world like a good…" His face was serious, but he cracked a smile as he finished with, "conversation. I guess Blaise is right."

Granger shoved him away, laughing, "For a moment I thought you were going into dangerous territory there."

"Oh really, Granger, you dirty girl. What in the world were you thinking of?" He teased whilst feigning innocence.

"I wouldn't want to corrupt you, Malfoy."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, "Consider me corruptible, then."

"But you, the paradigm of virtue and purity. I just couldn't."

"You flatter me, Granger, you really do." He pushed up onto the bench top and sat beside her, "But I think I've worked out what this mysterious thing is that you won't reveal to me."

"So what is it?"

He leaned in confidentially, as if he were about to pass on the meaning of life, "A shag. A fuck. The old surf and -"

"Enough, enough, I get the idea." She played with folds of her shortened school skirt in her fingertips. "…So, what are you doing over Christmas?"

Draco shrugged; Christmas had never really been a big thing at his home, it was usually the time for the dirty laundry to be aired, coupled with fights and tears. "You know… Normal stuff."

"So the normal Draco Malfoy stuff? Corrupting governments, destroying lives, terrorizing civilians." Granger poured herself a glass of orange juice as she smirked gleefully at Draco.

"Yeah, but you forgot assassination of annoying public figures such as Weasels and Scarheads." He replied, taking the glass from her after she had taken a sip.

"Watch yourself, they're my friends!" retorted Granger, "_And_ you've got my juice!" She lunged for glass, narrowly missing as Draco raised it above her head. He leaned back and guzzled half of it.

She slapped his hand, "So is petty theft also part of your holiday plans?"

Draco took another sip, finishing off the glass whilst fending Granger off with his other hand, "Perhaps, just seeing how I am at it first."

She replied by grabbing the back of his neck with her hand and squeezing it, reveling in Draco's pain as he tensed and flinched simultaneously. He wrapped his arms around her and tickled in response, until her laughter came in shrieks.

"Err…hi." Came Potter's voice awkwardly. He seemed to be confused by the situation.

"Morning Harry." Granger's greeting came in pants.

"Hey Potter. Let's go?" asked Draco.

Potter nodded.

Hermione gave a perplexed look, "What are you two doing?" A week ago, Draco would've been baffled too, but after that strange morning where Potter had helped him with the Wronski Feint, the two seekers now trained together, helping each other perfect moves. They found it better to train with another seeker, who could pinpoint mistakes and judge more critically. And of course, no one was more critical than Draco.

Draco wrapped his arm around Potter in a superior, dominating way, "Well, Potty needed some help with his broom, so who am I to say no." He ruffled Potter's already messy hair.

Potter pushed him off with a laugh, "I think it's the other way round."

"Who's helping who with their descents today?"

"Fine." said Potter, explaining to Granger, "It's a mutual helping thing."

"Way to make the manliest sport sound homosexual, Potter."

Potter rolled his eyes, "Let's go, we're wasting daylight."

* * * * *

Pansy approached Draco with an odd expression after first period. He couldn't pinpoint it, but with Pansy, you rarely could.

"Hey Draco." said Pansy, with a hint of uncharacteristic nervousness.

"Yeah Pans?" Draco hoped that she didn't want to rekindle their relationship or anything like that. He had gotten over that situation with minimal damage, and didn't want to return to the weird state of possessive caring that he was in. But girls were crazy, you could never tell.

She bit her lip, as if contemplating her words, "Do you want to catch a carriage home with me this year?"

"Are you joking?" said Draco, his white teeth exposed in an incredulous smile. Gentle relief coursed through him.

"No." countered Pansy, averting his gaze, "We could take it from Kings Cross Station, and it'd drop me off first, and you're only fifteen minutes away. Or you could fly home." She gesticulated as she spoke, finishing with a shrug.

"Why?" It seemed pointless to Draco. He was never one to stop and smell the roses, and he didn't think Pansy was either.

"It's nice. The scenery's nice. We just rush around all the time and …" Pansy tucked a few stray hairs gently behind her ear before pausing. Her face abruptly changed, and now a smile was plastered, "Forget it, it's a stupid idea."

They had been friends long enough for Draco to know that her smile was as genuine as the Slytherin Quidditch team's code of sportsmanship. Pansy was among the few people he really gave a shit about in the world, and if the girl wanted a carriage ride, she'd get a carriage ride. "We're going on a carriage." he replied abruptly, albeit decisively.

"No, don't worry Draco." Another one of those smiles flitted across her face like a mask.

"We're going on a carriage." he insisted, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. "After all, what are friends for?"

A smile traveled up Pansy's face, right up to her dark eyes, which, for once, were calm. "I'll owl the company and book one."

"Sounds like a plan, Parkinson."

* * * * *

Yet another breakfast had been made and yet again, there would be forty-five minutes before the any of their housemates would rouse.

"How's Goldstein?" asked Draco casually. It had been almost a week since she'd last updated him about it. He couldn't imagine why Granger needed to take so long; Draco's longest conquest probably lasted four days.

Granger shrugged, "It's alright I guess. He's alright. I mean, he's nice…" She trailed off.

"But?" There was always a 'but'. Everyone has a 'but'.

"That's the thing. There's no but, that's all he is – nice."

Draco looked at her, as if inspecting her and attempting to come to some sort of conclusion, "I always took you for a girl that likes nice guys."

"I always thought that too, I guess. But, he's too nice…" She trailed off again, gazing at nothing in particular, "It's really tiring to be with someone like that. You feel like you have to be nice in return all the time."

"There you go." said Draco, in an approving tone like a teacher talking to a student, "There's the 'but'. Everyone has one."

"What a pessimistic view you have."

"It's not pessimistic, it's true. Even your closest friends have 'buts'. You know, like Scarhead's a hero, _but_ he's an idiot. Or Weasel…" Draco searched for something nice to say about Weasel. "Weasel has some as of yet unidentified unrecognizable good quality, _but_ he's exceedingly unfortunate looking, or in layman's terms, ugly."

"Pessimistic." chirped Granger in a sing-song voice.

"At least I don't have a bad boy complex."

She crossed her arms, "I do _not_ have a bad boy complex."

Draco smirked, "All girls have a secret fetish for them, don't worry, Granger, you're not the only one. You all read about them in those romance novels where the wizard's topless and riding a broom with some swooning witch wrapped around him. I skimmed through one once at Greengrass' house. Not pleasant." He ignored her attempts at rebuttal, "And well, you don't like Goldstein, and he's a good boy. Which by some sort of deductive reasoning means that you like bad boys." He took a step closer and leaned in till they only had centimetres between their faces, "Which means you want me Granger. You want me bad."

"Oh yeah, I want you really bad." said Granger sarcastically. She punched his shoulder with a smirk.

"I know you do." He suggestively waggled his eyebrows.

"Anyway," said Granger, indicating heavily a change of subject, "Any updates on your plans for Christmas?"

"Well there has been a change of plans…" began Draco with an intriguing grin.

"No doom and destruction in store?" questioned Hermione as she cocked her head.

"Maybe a little… But I'm taking a carriage back home with Pans, and then me and Blaise are going to Paris." It had been decided last night; a whim that came and gripped both boys' minds with fantasies of anonymous French women, adventure and escape.

"Blaise and I." corrected Granger.

"Regardless, it should be a good Christmas." _For once_.

"I'm not going to know what to do with myself in the mornings for two weeks." She gave a strange crooked smile. "One last breakfast tomorrow, and then… holidays."

"You know, I might actually…" _I might actually miss you._ The words almost escaped from Draco's lips, and they were as foreign there as they were in his mind. "I might actually get a sleep in." _Would he actually miss her? _Draco supposed that the newly non bushy-haired girl was making quite an impression, albeit many years late. He drank in her features subconsciously, attempting to memorize the wide, innocent eyes (so vastly different from Pansy's), the tall elegant nose with freckles dotting it, the determined eyebrows and the tense pale red lips. Draco's eyes traveled down to her collar, which was dirtied by a small dollop of red jam.

"You have a -" He reached over instinctively to attempt to wipe the jam off as he took a step closer. Too late - it had already imbedded itself into the threads of cotton. Draco rubbed over it a few times before pulling his hand back abruptly, unsure if he should be touching her. He suddenly realised how close they were standing before taking an awkward step back. They had become more comfortable around each other, but was this _too_ comfortable? Draco's hand still hung clumsily in the air, which he remedied by hastily pulling it through his hair. A second too late, he realised that this also meant pulling the jam through his hair.

Granger gave a light laugh which seemed to defuse Draco's awkwardness, "And now you've got it all your hair." She used her left hand to grab the nape of his neck and pull him closer to her eye line, "Come here." With her right hand, she tugged at the small red globules. She released his neck a few moments later, "All gone."

For a moment, Draco was speechless, no smart quip, no insult for Granger dirtying his hair. Maybe comfortable was ok. Maybe it was a good place to be. There was a strange sensation of unequivocal optimism, although there was nothing to look forward to. However, moments later, the brief feeling left as a scowl overtook his features. _Damn that Dumbledore. His stupid plan might actually be working. _

The next morning everything changed in a few seconds. Not even - it changed in the time that it takes one person to wrap their arm around another and give them a kiss square on the lips. Namely, the time that it took Ron Weasley to wrap his slimy arm around Granger and give her a drippingly wet kiss, accompanied by, "Good morning, baby."

Baby? Draco wanted to vomit.

It was only then that he realised what had happened. It was only then that the strange but familiar feeling of rage enveloped him. Strange because Draco didn't know why he felt livid and slightly betrayed. Familiar because he was used to bouts of his own volatile temper.

"I guess you two've got this under control." Draco walked back up to the dorm without another word or glance. They were completely wrong together. It was like a unicorn and a troll mating and having a five-legged pink goblin come out.

Draco came down to breakfast later after Blaise's insistence. Everyone was normal, sitting at the table and chatting, bar Potter, who wasn't there. Granger, however, did shoot him a few questioning looks, but for the most part, she spent her time staring into Weasley's dull, dense eyes. Draco felt like pointing out to everyone how stupid Granger and Weasley were, how much they didn't suit each other. But he kept it to himself. Everything had changed for him, but everyone else seemed much the same, completely indifferent. After an almost wordless breakfast, he headed up to finish packing. Draco gruffly refused Blaise's offer to help him, who then gave him a slightly offended look and went to wait with Pansy.

Draco finished his packing, each move done with a little more strength than required. His possessions would definitely be more worn and battered by the end of the day. The image of Granger and Weasel still gripped his mind. He didn't even know why he cared. It was all supposed to be a funny game. He never expected them to actually get together though. It was in that moment that he decided that Granger was a slut who couldn't say no, and Weasley was scum, worse than the rest of his beggar family combined.

Pansy's demanding voice broke through the dissonance of his mind, "Draco, help me carry my shit down!"

It took twenty minutes to get all of Pansy, Draco and Blaise's luggage down. Once all their belongings were outside their common room, the house elves picked them up and would stow them on the train. Pansy and Blaise were about to leave, when, in a moment of panic, Draco realised that he had left his wand upstairs. "Hold on!" he yelled to Pansy as he sprinted up the stairs.

"Five minutes!" she called back, "Till the train's leaving. Use your legs and run up those stairs before I snap them if we miss the train!"

Draco burst through the door and grabbed his wand, still on his bedside table, where he had left it. He looked up and noticed Potter. It occurred to him that this was the first time he saw Potter all morning, "Five minutes before the train leaves."

"Oh yeah, thanks." replied Potter, still in an apparent daze as he continued to pack slowly.

Draco raised his eyebrows expectantly, "So, chop chop, Potter."

He still didn't speed up, "To be honest, I'm actually trying to miss the train."

Draco understood the reluctance to go home, "Bad Christmases too?"

"You have no idea." exhaled Potter, "I'm living with my muggle relatives for a week before I can go live with Ron's family."

"Good luck with that, but if you miss the early train, they'll pop you right back on when it comes back or you'll have a teacher floo with you. Fourth year, McGonagall had to take me. Best to leave now." Draco turned to go whilst pocketing his wand, "And same for me, before Pansy cuts me up."

"Hey." said Potter, causing Draco to turn around, "Merry Christmas."

He smirked, "Yeah you too. Just try not to spend too much time pondering why you're so ugly and undateable. When you realize there's no solution, you'll just be depressed."

"Thanks." Replied Potter with a grin, "Just as long as you don't spend too much time pondering why you'll never be as good as me at Quidditch. That'll be even more depressing."

Draco pretended to look outraged, "Oh, low blow there, Potter. My self esteem is just crumbling at the foundations. Aren't you supposed to be all good and kind to your housemates and Quidditch buddies?"

"I make exceptions for you."

"Well, unfortunately, Pansy doesn't, so I'll see you on the train hopefully with my limbs intact."

* * * * *

The apparent absence of any free carriages didn't serve to help Draco's mood, especially after they had walked almost the length of the train. He scowled, "I don't understand why two people have to take a whole carriage by themselves."

"Because we're Slytherins, and therefore, the world hates us." answered Pansy in her unconcerned way.

"We'll find somewhere. Or else we'll kick some first years out. It'll be fine." Blaise followed closely behind Pansy.

Draco didn't see how anything could be fine. Especially not now that the natural order of the world had been disrupted by two despicable creatures forming a union of pathetic goodness. As Draco began to open the last (or first) carriage door of the train, it lulled into motion and sent them crashing into each other. He brushed himself off and looked into the carriage. No, it wasn't empty. And it wasn't another pair of first years. It was much worse. It was Weasley and Granger. They weren't snogging or anything, but the preparations were there. His arm draped around her shoulders, their hands in her lap, bodies close. Granger looked up first and jumped away from Weasley almost immediately, "You guys haven't found a carriage yet?"

Before Draco could reply with a scathingly sarcastic comment, Pansy flounced in past him with a smile, "No, we've found one. Here." She sat down next to the window on the opposite side with a smirk.

Blaise stood uncomfortably between the threshold of the door and Draco, unsure of whether to follow Pansy's suit or not.

Draco looked at his nails apathetically as he spoke, "No, we wouldn't want to disturb the two lovebirds."

"Nonsense. Harry's coming soon anyway. It'll be like a nice dorm thing before Christmas. And Ron doesn't mind." Granger looked to Weasley, "Do you?"

He muttered evasively. Obviously Weasley _did_ mind.

Pansy leered at Draco, as if daring him to enter. Fuck it. His legs were tired from all that walking, and he didn't have to talk to the pair. Draco sat down wordlessly beside, with Blaise following, sitting next to him.

He began a casual conversation with Blaise about their pending trip to Paris, something happy to alleviate the crap feeling that enveloped him.

Potter came in a few minutes later, looking greatly relieved, "I almost missed the train, and then I couldn't find you guys." He looked across the carriage and noticed Draco, Pansy and Blaise. "Hey." Potter muttered some indecipherable thing about window seats and Weasley and Granger being too busy with each other. He shuffled past them and slotted himself into the window seat across from Pansy. They struck up a conversation almost immediately, with Blaise joining in quickly. Draco felt neither inclination or obligation to the conversation, and opted to sit sullenly, glaring at the passing landscape as if it had personally insult him. After a while, the view became too much. Too mundane, too monotonous, too meager. "Toilet." he muttered gruffly as he stood up mechanically to leave. A slammed the carriage door shut, but still heard Granger as she said, "Me too."

She came out scuttling after him a few moments later. Granger grabbed him by the shoulder, "What's wrong?"

Draco shook her off without a glance, "Nothing. You see, my bladder's full. Now I have to empty it. I believe it's considered a normal human process." He strided off, increasing his speed. Did the toilet _have_ to be in the middle of the train?

She persisted, keeping up with him, "You don't fool me. You were all angry this morning as well."

Draco rolled his eyes. Who did she think she was, talking to him like that? He abruptly stopped and turned around, causing her to bump into him. "Well you sure fooled me." Draco made sure to make his face void of expression.

"What do you mean?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I just thought you weren't so…" Draco played around with a few words in his mind, choosing the most effective, "simple."

Granger crossed her arms defensively, "Simple?"

"You know, this thing with Weasley. I just thought you wouldn't be that easy to get. Apparently any Tom, Dick or Harry can have you."

Her face hardened as she gave him a look of light repugnance, "Ron cares about me."

Draco snorted, "He doesn't even respect you."

"Of course he respects me." She was defiant.

"If you took a proper look you'd see that he doesn't." Her features crinkled in confusion as Draco walked away.

* * * * *

A horse drawn carriage was waiting for Draco and Pansy on the outskirts of Kings Cross Station. It looked completely out of place against the bustling muggles.

Pansy hopped on first, swinging her suitcases on with ease. Draco, on the other hand, was neither elegant nor effortless in his ascent. He swore as his suitcase got caught on the step of the carriage, engaging in an intense struggle with it for about ten seconds. He slammed the door shut loudly after finally pulling it up. "Fucking piece of bloody sodding shit!"

Pansy smiled, "Testy today, aren't we?"

"No… it's nothing." muttered Draco, sitting down.

Pansy tapped the door with her wand, and the horses automatically started into motion, "Obviously it's something. But if you don't want to talk about it, I don't want to hear about it." She gave a bright smile.

"Thanks. Appreciate it." Draco adjusted his clothes and sank more comfortably into his seat, "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing…Why?"

"You seem strange lately… I dunno. Stranger than usual?"

"Let's just not talk for a while and do what we came to do – look at the scenery."

It seemed like a terrible idea, considering copious amount of time he spent looking out the window in the first leg of the journey. But he let her be.

Pansy looked out the window, the landscape and minutes passing in a blur accompanied by silence. Her cheek was pressed against the glass and her chin rested on her closed fist. "I just don't want to go home. Not yet at least.", She finally spoke, eyes still trained on the desolate branching trees. They were almost there.

"Which explains the long carriage ride. But you don't have to go home if you don't want to." Draco responded to the silence quickly, it had been pressing in on him.

Pansy gazed at him, "And do what? Live on the street?"

"Of course not. Live with me!" Draco grinned at his idea, "Come on, it'll be great fun. We'll go leave your shit at yours, say hi to Mummy dearest then haul arse and you can live with me until you want to go home. Yes?"

"Sounds good." she smiled widely and sat up immediately, "But I propose that as soon as we get to yours, we raid your parent's liquor cabinet, drink as much fire whiskey as we can, to get as immensely fucked up as humanely possible and forget all our troubles."

"Just like the old days."

Pansy frowned as their surroundings changed from untamed trees and wild flowers to well-manicured gardens framed by uninviting fences. The almost comforting rocking from the pebbly dirt paths transitioned to a smooth fluid movement.

"Place looks different." commented Draco, gaping with the subtlety of a ten year old catching its first glance of a fairground. The garden was flamboyant and unrestrained, almost gaudy in its far-reaching colour palette, ranging from deep carmines to shallow azures and light violets.

"She changed all the flowers." whispered Pansy, indicating to the flowerbed in front of their ostentatious front door. "They used to be black irises and now they're fucking lilies."

Draco watched her profile, noticing a hint of unhappiness, "Why does that matter?"

"Black irises are my favourite flowers. It's like I'm not even…" her face hardened as she drifted off, "Do you know what this means?"

The carriage rolled to a gentle stop. The footman shuffled around and clicked open the door. Draco stepped down first. As he extended his hand to help Pansy down, he leaned nonchalantly over to the footman, "Bring the pink suitcases in but leave the brown one here. We'll be back soon."

Pansy grasped his hand and leaned in confidentially, "She's seeing someone new." Her face was stony. "This always happens."

He tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow as they walked up the stairs, "What always happens?"

Here was the Pansy he hadn't seen in a while - cold, emotionless, detached. Draco had been preparing for this, for the façade to reappear since her strange silence in the carriage. He was used to seeing her pokerfaced, used to feeling that sense of fear from not knowing what she'd do next, but this, this surprised him. Pansy had never transformed so much that Draco could not locate the familiar version of her. When she dressed down her Slytherin minions, there would be a hint of laughter in her eyes, ridiculing the whole situation, or the faintest quirk of a smile on her lips. But none of that was present right now. She never replied to his question, rather, pushed the door open gently.

A "Whoa" escaped from Draco. The house had changed since he had been there last summer. The halls were now marble, the furniture garish and a few walls seemed to be missing. Come to think of it, this house was different to the one he had been to last summer, which was unlike the one he saw when he was fourteen, which was nothing like the house from his visit on Pansy's eleventh birthday, which couldn't have been the same one from a cocktail dinner Pansy's mother hosted when they were eight and had absolutely no resemblance to the minimalist rooms they used to crawl through as children.

A beady eyed woman, bursting out of her apron, glided over to the pair almost immediately, "Miss Parkinson, Young Master Malfoy." she greeted them coldly, no trace of familiarity in her voice, "Would you like me to fetch Miss Dolohov?"

Pansy murmured emotionlessly into Draco's ear, "So she's using her maiden name now." She turned to the woman, "No, that won't be necessary, I'll be leaving soon."

"Of course you're not, Pansy darling!" called a purring voice from across the room. A tall, lean figure wrapped in a tight green dress sashayed over. Of course, she looked impeccable. Belladonna Parkinson always looked impeccable. Her crimson lips gave a welcoming smile, "Draco, you're here too! How lovely. How are you? I haven't seen you or darling Narcissa in much too long."

"Hello Mrs… um… er…Bella. I'm well thanks, how are you?" She would always be Mrs. Parkinson to Draco.

"I'm fine. Same old same old." she winked at Draco before turning to Pansy, "So what's this about you not staying, Pansy?"

"Well Draco invited me to stay at his country house, so we're going there for a while." replied Pansy emotionlessly.

"Not tonight you're not."

Pansy gritted her teeth. "Why not?"

"Because you're staying for dinner."

Pansy seemed to vaguely know where the conversation was going, which was miles ahead of Draco, who was barely understanding the hostility. She seemed to be holding in her breath, "We can have dinner any night."

"Tonight's a _special_ dinner that I've prepared. You _must_ stay." Bella's dark eyes glowered down at Pansy as she annunciated each word.

"I already have plans." countered Pansy aloofly.

"Cancel them. Draco may come to dinner. You know that he is always welcome."

"He doesn't want to have dinner with you. I don't want to have dinner with you." Pansy returned the glare.

"I don't know when you've become such a nasty little girl, Pansy. It's unbecoming. But I've been planning this for a while now, and I'm not having you ruin it." She bared her marble white teeth, "And anyway, there's someone I want you to meet."

Pansy broke off the gaze and looked around at the room, "The place looks different."

Mrs. Parkinson rolled her eyes pointedly, "Yes. It does. Don't try and change the subject."

Pansy released herself from Draco's elbow and took a turn around the room, dragging her fingertips across the walls, "You took away my flowers."

"Is this why you're so angry?" she snorted, "Black irises, they're a little morbid don't you think?"

"I'm not angry." she stopped to look at her mother, "But you didn't seem to think they were morbid for the past sixteen years of my life."

Mrs. Parkinson crossed her arms, almost petulantly, and raised an eyebrow at Pansy, "I felt like a change. Look, I don't care if I have to drag-"

"So this someone at dinner," began Pansy, cutting her mother off, "Is this a _special_ someone?" She gave a sarcastic smile.

"Yes, it _does _happen to be a special someone. And as I was saying, before you so _rudely_ cut me off, I do not care if I have to drag you kicking and screaming up the stairs, but you're coming to dinner, and you're staying tonight, whether you like it or not."

"I'm not going to like him." retorted Pansy.

"And why is that?"

Pansy cast her eye pointedly around the room, "Because he has horrible taste."

"He didn't decorate this. I did!" Mrs. Parkinson's voice was rising with each of her wild gesticulations around the room. "So don't blame him."

"Maybe you chose this exact shade of lifeless grey and decided to knock down those particular walls, but who put these ideas into your head? And you're telling me that my flowers are morbid, what about the giant ice cold crypt you've turned our house into?"

Mrs. Parkinson's jaw clenched dangerously, "That is enough from you. Go to your room."

"Gladly." Pansy gave a vindictive smile, "Maybe I can go and bury myself alive there."

She stomped up the stairs, with Draco following her closely.

They could both navigate their way to Pansy's room blindfolded if need be. Right at the top of the stairs, walk to the end of the corridor, turn left, then the second right and finally the third door on the right. The rest of the house was decorated in the similar way, with varying shades of gray. The exquisitely intricate paintings that Draco used to marvel at were now stripped from the walls and the sporadic bowls of flowers that breathed life into random nooks and crannies were gone. As soon as Pansy entered her room, she sat down angrily on her bed, which, to Draco's recollection, was still the same one. Her room appeared untouched, the same as it had always been: walls baby pink, shelves filled soft fluffy toys and clothes carelessly strewn around. Her toy chest was still at the foot of her bed. Draco remembered hiding in there once, waiting for an hour for Pansy to come into her room, just so he could jump out to scare her. He pounced out, only to find her sitting in front of it, waiting for him to come out, slowly chewing on a plate of biscuits whilst smiling her knowing smile.

Draco sat down next to her, "What just happened out there?" His voice was soothing, reassuring.

"I don't know." Pansy's face was blotchy and her voice wobbly. "This is why we always played at yours or Blaise's." She gave a weak smile. "She just… she always does this. Everytime a new man comes along, she's this new person. One week she'll be all about protecting magical creatures, and a divorce and one date later, she'll be hunting goblins as game. I don't know who she is anymore, and I don't think she does either."

Draco fiddled with his hands, unsure of what to say. His hand hovered mid-air for a moment before giving Pansy a consoling squeeze on the shoulder.

She looked up at him, "You don't have to stay for this train wreck, you know."

"Yeah, I know. But we're friends and all that shit." he shrugged.

"So you do have some redeeming qualities. Among them kindness and compassion and a love for all humanity." Pansy feigned pride, with her hand to her chest, mocking him.

Draco grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, don't go too far. I still hate small animals."

"You love them. I know you do." She smirked, assuming her usual demeanor easily, the distraught girl from a few moments ago gone, "And to think I was only friends with you for your huge… inheritance." Pansy winked.

The beady eyed woman from before, whose name Draco still could not place, came into the room after one swift knock of the door. "Miss Parkinson, Miss Dolohov wishes to inform you that dinner will commence in an hour. A bath's been run for you, and she expects you to be clean, dressed appropriately and prompt." She acknowledged Draco with a sneering glance before leaving the room.

He broke into laughter as soon as her back was turned, "Aren't old lady housekeepers supposed to be doting and loving?"

"Yeah, I think we got the wrong one delivered, but she's expired, so we can't return her." Pansy stood up and walked to her dressed, rummaging for a while. "So she says that I should be dressed appropriately. Does that mean I wear the shortest, lowest, tightest dress that I can find, or the longest, frillest and smelliest 'frock' handed down by my dear grandmother?"

"Isn't it obvious which dress I'd prefer?"

"True." Pansy scrunched two things under her arm, "I'll see what they look like. I'm having a shower now. I don't think I can handle being sweaty and smelly, even to vilify her in the face of Mr _Special Someone_."

She left him with his own thoughts when she left to bathe. Preparations for Paris would occur later, perhaps with Pansy's help. But planning to destroy Ron Weasley? He'd do that now, and by himself.

* * *

_**AN: Thanks everyone for reviewing! We made it into triple digits!! :D Please keep on doing so, and see my happiness rise proportionately with the number of reviews. What did you think of the chapter?  
**_


	12. Draco Pt 2

**A/N: Super apologies for this ridiculously late update! I finished my last year of school this year and have had no time to write. Thankyou to everyone who kept reviewing this year and being a reminder that I have to finish what I started! I will see this through to the end. :)**

**Previously: Much to his chagrin, Draco discovers that Ron and Hermione are dating. Their growing friendship quickly crumbles as a result of Hermione's "stupidity". After going with Pansy to her mother's, Draco discovers his kind side.**

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* * *

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Draco reclined on Pansy's bed, "Are you going to take that off?", he asked, referring to the musty purple monstrosity that she was wearing. With a pause, he added, "Don't worry, I'm not trying anything with you...It just smells weird."

She glanced back at him, mustering a laugh, "Personally, I think the scent of mothballs is perfectly acceptable." Pansy quirked one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows, " And this wonderful juxtaposition of lace, velvet, satin and chiffon is absolutely divine. Don't you agree?"

"No comment." Draco smiled slightly, "Look, you shocked your mum. No need to scare _me_ out of the house." He turned sideways and rested his head on his arm as he looked up at Pansy. She toyed with her long dark hair, scrutinising it in the mirror.

"Yeah the look on her face was priceless." Pansy giggled as she undid the buttons down her back, "I didn't know it was possible to cover _this_ much skin. Remarkable. And _he_ is definitely rethinking his relationship with her. I could see it in his eyes. I mean, if he can't handle me, how is he gonna deal with her in the long run?"

Draco shrugged. He preferred to avoid these kinds of discussions. Families, relationships, feelings. They always ended with some unexpected burst of emotion, an unwanted revelation. "Look, tomorrow we'll go to Diagon Alley, meet Blaise there...And wreak havoc on the poor unsuspecting Diagon Alley folk. How does that sound?"

She inspected his cool grey eyes for a moment, "Wonderful." Pansy extracted herself from the first layer of the dress and began to slowly glide out of the room with a smile. "Goodnight."

Draco quickly sat up, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to sleep in the guest room. You're sleeping here. I know you've always liked my bed best." Pansy hovered at her door.

"I've always liked your bed because you were in it." He smirked.

"No, it's because you're a princess and its the softest bed in the house. And you definitely need your beauty sleep tonight, you've been looking a bit haggard lately. Don't want to look bad for those Parisian women, do we?" Pansy shut the door with a soft click and chuckled as she Draco frantically rushed over to her mirror.

After a few moments contorting his face at various angles in front of the mirror, he decided that Pansy was lying. Draco looked great. His skin was flawless. _Haggard, pfft. _Draco glanced down at Pansy's dressing table and noticed a small box behind a cluster of photos. Electric blue, covered in a catastrophe of rainbow jewels. Draco picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his palm. It was the music box he had bought for her when they were 12 or 13.

It was the first and so far, last proper present he had ever given to a girl. There was no apology attached, or an attempt to get in anyone's pants. Draco had seen the box - opening to unicorns dancing in a circle - in a shop window and immediately been reminded of Pansy. He lifted the lid and smiled as the familiar tune drifted back.

* * *

"What about her? She's at least an eight." remarked Draco, about a blonde passing by.

"Nah, no way. Maybe a six. Look at her calves! They're _huge_." Pansy raised her eyebrows delicately.

They both glanced over at Blaise, who simply uttered, "Three", with a nonplussed look of disgust.

The three were seated outside the Witches' Hat, waiting for their second round of drinks. Witches and wizards were bustling around the cobblestone streets, weaving around looking for this and that in an organised sort of chaos, each like an individual particle of sand in a sandstorm. The ground seemed to tremble under their collective weight.

Draco leaned back, his cheeks pink from the cold, "You realise, with your standards, you'll never find a perfect ten?"

"She'd have to be pretty amazing for Blaise to glance twice, let alone ask her out." Pansy rested her chin on her right hand. "So... what does Blaise Zabini's perfect ten look like?"

Draco looked over at Blaise, taking in the outfit consisting wholly of black, with the exception of his navy grey scarf. Draco assumed it was cashmere. Blaise seemed too composed, too nonchalant to be impressed with a girl, let alone fall in love. Blaise winked at them both, "I'll let you know when I see her."

"Can't wait. I look forward to meeting her." Pansy was back to wearing her normal clothes, thankfully. Her camel coloured coat and black gloves shielded her from the chill of the powdery snow.

"And I look forward to screwing her." added Draco with a deadpan expression. "Mate, the best man, the bride. It's practically inevitable."

"And who says that you're going to be best man?" Blaise contemplated for a moment and grinned, "...Actually no, that's a great idea. Your ugliness will make me look much better in comparison."

Draco shook his head, feigning disappointment, "Jealously really doesn't wear well on you."

"Look, we all know that-" Pansy's voice faded as she squinted her kohl-rimmed eyes at a point in the distance, "Um...I'll be right back."

The boys whipped around to see what she was looking at, but could only catch a fleeting glimpse of Pansy before she disappeared into the crowd. Draco frowned at Blaise, "What the hell?"

Blaise shrugged, "Nevermind. There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about anyway."

Draco responded simply by raising his eyebrow.

"Whilst I was waiting for you two before, I saw Weasley wearing a dress with a wig with face putty plastered on his face in some alley-"

"Oh that," Draco cut in, "I almost forgot." He stood up, motioning pressing a camera shutter with his finger.

Blaise swiftly pushed him back down with a stern arm, "I don't know what is going on between you two, but I can't remember the last time you went behind my back on a prank."

"'Behind my back' is such a negative term. I prefer 'independent thinking'." Draco smiled indulgently.

"If you think that you're changing the subject by discussing semantics, you underestimate me." Blaise was perfectly serious, Draco was attempting to lighten the mood.

Draco shrugged off Blaise's hand, "What's the big issue?"

"We both know that this has gone beyond simple fun and games -"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. It's us against Potter and Weasley. It always has been."

"No, it's not really like that, is it? You have some vendetta against Weasley. And it needs to stop now. We have enough compromising photos. I don't know what you want to accomplish, but it's getting ridiculous." However, Blaise's tone indicated that he knew _exactly_ what Draco wanted to accomplish.

Draco lighthearted smile quickly turned into a scowl, "So you've jumped ship to Weasley too?" Granger's bushy head flashed in his mind and his eyes flashed dangerously.

"I haven't." Blaise held his eye contact with Draco, his voice unwavering, "And you know I wouldn't. But this prank...it's too much."

Draco stood up briskly, "Yeah, well, I hope you two enjoy your lives together. I'm going to find Pansy." He dropped a couple of galleons on the table and turned away in a huff.

Who did Blaise think he was, talking to him like that? What was so good about Weasley anyway? He was dumb and ugly and redheaded and freckled. And just to show Blaise how this wasn't a vendetta, he would throw all of the photos of Weasley on Blaise's bed tonight., so he could have them. Ok, maybe all but one.

Draco scoured the streets. He couldn't see Pansy anywhere_. Where did she go? _

He wandered around aimlessly for a while, although Draco would never admit that he did anything without aim. As he turned the corner into a quiet street, Draco collided with another body. "Watch where you're -" A brief moment of surprise crossed his face before his signature sneer set back into place. "Oh, it's you."

Granger looked up at him with a strange look on her face. Tentatively, she ventured, "Hi."

Draco had expected a confrontation. Subsequently, he didn't know what to say, so Draco stalked off without announcement.

After a few moments, she called out, "Wait!". Naturally, he didn't. Draco could hear her hastily walking up to him.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" she scolded.

He bristled, "How dare you question me like there's something wrong with my state of mind? Clearly you're the one that's deranged."

Granger rolled her eyes, "Deranged? Before the holidays, everything was going well. I daresay we were almost…friends." He snorted, but she continued, "And now you're acting like a spoilt brat again."

Looking at her filled him with rage. That frizzy hair, the determined nose, strong brows. "Don't mistake yourself, Granger. I don't need anymore friends. The stuff before, being civil to you - it was just to make my mornings easier. Clearly you've read too much into it." His cool eyes glazed over, "It won't happen anymore. I'd misjudged you for someone who's capable of making good life decisions." After a final glance, he left Granger alone with an indignant look on her face in the alleyway.

After that, Draco found himself a cosy corner in a coffee shop and began to pen a vitriolic letter.

* * *

Draco had come to hate the sound of silver cutlery clinking against expensive china. It was always an indication of a stalling conversation, the preamble to silence. In Pansy's ostentatious dining room, there seemed to be two distinctive _anti_-conversations. Blaise and Draco. Pansy and her mother. The moist sound of chewing and soundless air was amplified by the high ceiling. Draco and Blaise still hadn't talked since the morning at Diagon Alley.

Being the semi-hostess, Pansy felt obliged to make conversation, "So when are you two leaving tomorrow? Straight to Paris?"

Blaise looked to Draco to answer, "I was thinking that we overstay our welcome until after lunch, then floo to Blaise's uncle's apartment."

Pansy's mother, Bella, smiled indulgently, "Don't ever talk like that! You two will never overstay your welcome!" She spoke with her usual dramatic flourish. "What about you, Pansy, darling? Will you be visiting the boys?"

"Maybe." Pansy tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, "I think -"

"Stop fidgeting with your hair, dear." cut in Bella, "Have you combed it?" As usual, she seemed deaf to Pansy's words, having only sight for her imperfections.

Pansy immediately extracted her hand, as if touching scalding water, but retorted, "That's the point." She looked away and slid a potato onto her fork.

In a stage whisper, Bella called across the table, "_Another_ potato? Really?" She shook her head, "You know, I can already tell your metabolism is slowing down."

Pansy immediately dropped the fork with the potato and looked down, too embarrassed to meet either of her guests in the eye.

Draco and Blaise both had their mouths open, ready to talk, but neither could find the right words.

It was Bella that continued the conversation a moment later, with no indication that she noticed Pansy's upset expression, "Will you be visiting Madame Beart's patisserie? It's divine."

Blaise kept an eye on Pansy as he responded no. She didn't speak for a few minutes, and after that, gave only mono-syllabic answers if she was being addressed directly. Immediately after the last course, Pansy excused herself, leaving Draco and Blaise with her mother to devour the ice cream and crème brulee.

Upon finishing dessert, Draco and Blaise looked for Pansy. She wasn't in her room, the pool, the fountain, the deck, the library or the inner garden. After donning heavy coats and gloves, they ventured to the edges of the property, but no sight nor sound of her could be detected. They weren't too worried about her, Pansy could hold her own no matter where she was. But nevertheless, she was never well after dealing with the ex-Mrs Parkinson. The two boys had walked in silence until Blaise cleared his throat. "Maybe Pansy went to go see Nott." His speech escaped in breaths of smoke.

"Mmhm." answered Draco. He wasn't in the mood to respond. It was plausible, but he doubted that there was any comfort to be found in that oaf.

"Maybe we should just wait for her at the gates." Blaise indicated past the winding stone pathway to the bench near the large iron-cast gates. "We'll see her when she comes back."

Draco answered brusquely, not making it easy to continue any semblance of a conversation. "Ok." Blaise was totally out of line this morning. As if Draco cared enough about Weasley to launch a vendetta. He was just a perfect weak target. But he could let it go. Because he didn't care about Weasley. Yeah. Of course.

Draco's anger towards, well, everything, came in peaks and troughs throughout the day, culminating in his filthy mood at the end of the night. It simmered in the background until Draco was consciously reminded of Blaise or Granger or Weasley, then it came to the fore. Worrying about Pansy didn't ease tensions either.

Silence settled for a few moments as they began to walk to the seat. Again, it was Blaise that disturbed the quiet, "Mate. Let's agree to disagree. Move on. I'd rather not take this with us to Paris." It was the closest a Slytherin could come to an apology, and they both knew this.

Draco looked at his best friend for a moment and offered his hand, "Yeah, I don't want you distracting my game."

Blaise's dark eyes twinkled with enjoyment as he sat down on the bench, "That assumes you have any to begin with."

The glacial veneers over Draco's eyes melted as the two joked, not noticing progress of the moon as it moved from one side of the sky to the other.

As Blaise's eyes began to droop, he decided to go inside to get some coffee for them as they waited for Pansy.

The shadows of the trees danced an elegant waltz with the winter breeze as a lead. Draco sucked in the prickly air, enjoying the intensity as it shot through his nose and throat. Embraced by the dark, everything felt scant.

Throughout the past few months, the same question had been running through his mind. _Which side?_ Draco had stopped believing in the Dark Lord's ideologies around third or fourth year. But submission was easier than resistance. If he swapped, joined the _good_ side...Draco envisioned Potter, Granger and Weasley in his mind. Potter's messy hair and dopey smile, Granger attached to Weasley. It was disgusting.

His opinion of Granger had been improving before she associated herself with Weasley. The thought of Granger reminded Draco of their Podbaby. He sat up in surprise. Draco hadn't thought of it since they left school.

Granger had brought in some bald pale thing with a greenish thing thing one night after her prefect duty with Weasley. Attached to its wrist was an identification number, the same as their dorm number. Being her usual conscientious self, Granger sent an owl to Professor Bane immediately and prevented anyone from interacting with the escaped podbaby. Yet she cooed over it like some overbearing mother hen.

Draco wondered what kind of tasks they'd have to complete with it. He did not want to feed, bathe or change the thing. He remembered the Professor saying how the babies would inherit 2 sets of genetics based on random selection. With blonde hair, a burgeoning smirk and the cunning to escape, Draco was sure he was the "father". Maybe they had to teach them life skills, some stupid parallel of the course they were doing.

Draco sat for another long while until he realised that Pansy probably wouldn't be coming home tonight, and Blaise was not bringing those coffees. He'd get them back. Draco lay down on the bench and arranged his cloak around him, too tired to walk back. "Fuckers." he whispered.


End file.
